Watching Snow Fall
by J. Avery
Summary: Or maybe… Mordecai lost his train of thought. Up on stage, with the electric guitar in hand, Benson looked on into the audience. At Mordecai. Into Mordecai's eyes.
1. Chapter 1

"Dude," Mordecai said, in awe. His fingers hovered over the brown box. Rigby couldn't stop bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"I know!" he squealed.

"Box cutter, dude. Hurry!" Mordecai ordered.

"Wait! You're just gonna… Open it?" Mordecai gave Rigby a piercing look.

_No, I was gonna ask it to dinner first._

"Well yeah…"

"I'm just sayin' savor the moment. This is a big deal man!" Rigby's eyes widened. "It's like I'm losing my virginity again."

"Pft. Again?"

Rigby's stare turned deadly. Mordecai wickedly smiled and turned his attention back to the package. He and Rigby had been waiting three weeks for this box. Which had been the same thing as waiting forever. They were surprised they were that patient. When they snapped at each other, it was just their anxiety and excitement bubbling up the way it usually did.

Mordecai dug the blade into the transparent tape and began to slowly slice it away. Rigby's incessant urgings to go "easy, easy" made it hard to focus. Once the tape was finally cut, Mordecai set the box cutter down. The blue jay took each flap and folded them back to see that white, Styrofoam packing popcorn. Mordecai dug through the white stuff (which seemed to be infinite; the useless crap) and got to the really good stuff. Everyone knows -besides the product- the bubble wrap is the most awesome part of getting something in the mail.

"I call dibs!" Rigby said, a reflex to him then. Mordecai rolled his eyes at the raccoon, but immediately got over his exasperation. The bubble wrap was surprisingly difficult to get off, enhancing the importance of the object inside. Mordecai finally got the wrap off, and slowly (painfully) held it up to the kitchen ceiling light.

Mordecai couldn't have been more pissed.

"Dr. Patricia's Guide to Female Empowerment?" Mordecai screeched. An earth-shattering sound could be heard within Rigby's mind.

"What?" Rigby said, completely innocent.

"Dude you picked up the wrong box!"

"No! No I didn't; I didn't I swear!"

Rigby picked up the box and saw inside a book with a 40ish woman with icy blonde hair and skinny glasses on the cover. She had a stony stare and scared the s out of Rigby. Everything else was a pamphlet for a local Women's Center and a video tape starring Dr. Patricia herself. This totally was NOT the Alternate Reality Goggles the two friends ordered three weeks ago. Rigby looked at Mordecai, who looked right back lividly, and then back at the Female Empowerment package. It was almost as if Rigby thought staring dumbstruck at it all would fix the mistake. That was as effective as it sounded.

Mordecai sat defeated in the dining room chair and pushed the package away. A pair of pink and white boxing gloves fell from the brown box.

"Uh. This sucks."

"Ah man," Rigby observed the boxing gloves disappointedly then threw them to the side, setting his sights on the bubble wrap. "At least I've still got the bubble wrap."

Mordecai ripped the bubble wrap from his friend's hands, and glared. "Oh no," he snapped. "_I've _got the bubble wrap. Because obviously someone doesn't know how the post office works."

Rigby snatched it back and held it close to his chest.

"One, I'm not the one who filled out the information online." Mordecai grew more and more visibly enraged. Rigby sneered. His friend's anger both amused and irritated him. "What'd you do? Close your eyes and wing it?"

"And what'd you do dude? See something at the post office you liked better?" Mordecai said mockingly, while he gestured towards the pink disappointment.

"And B, I already called dibs! You can't take something if I already called dibs on it! It's against the bro code."

"Is it against the bro code to straight up punch you in the face?" Mordecai screamed.

"Yeah! It is! And so is this!" Rigby dropped the bubble wrap, gripped up the tape and chucked it at Mordecai. The tape suspended in the air mid throw and dropped right at Mordecai's feet. It made a sad little "thud" once it fell. A sad little thud, for a sad little raccoon man.

"That was just… All kinds of pathetic." Mordecai snickered.

Rigby let loose what was a mix between a battle cry and a squeak when he put all the strength in his hind legs to launch himself at Mordecai's stomach. A strained 'oof!' escaped Mordecai's mouth as he and Rigby tumbled to the kitchen linoleum, taking the dining table (and some left over breakfast) with them. The two friends were a blue and brown blur on the floor, swimming in orange juice and cold omelets. With fists and fur flying, neither man could hear the window above them shatter. Rigby couldn't hit for crap, both of them knew that, but he was a raccoon after all and took advantage of his sharp teeth. Mordecai yelped in pain and squirmed on the floor for a few minutes until he realized 'Oh duh! Stronger than Rigby.' and simply stood up. Rigby was still latched on though, the determined little turd, Mordecai respected that. He dragged his friend through the ketchup and omelet and cereal to get to the cabinets.

_I just need a pot or maybe a frying pan…_

Mordecai searched on the bottom cabinets and found nothing but cleaning chemicals. He wanted to hurt Rigby; not kill/poison him. As Rigby tugged with his teeth and shook his head to hurt Mordecai's wing further, he began to slowly realize what his friend was looking for. Mordecai finally made it to the last cabinet above the counters, frantically grabbing at anything with a handle until he got exactly what he wanted. A stainless steel skillet. Mordecai winded his Rigby-less wing back, ready to strike, but at the very last nano second Rigby (that friggin' buttlicker!) opened his jaw and got out of the line of fire. Mordecai didn't stop himself in time, which resulted in him hitting his own wing with the skillet. Hard. Mordecai fell to the ground clutching his wing. As Mordecai writhed on the floor in pain, Rigby stood over his friend, smirking.

"You just got Rigbied!"

Mordecai would have rolled his eyes if it wasn't for his potentially broken wing. Rigby began to do a childish victory dance, which gave Mordecai the perfect opportunity to kick Rigby in the crotch while he was distracted. Rigby was then reduced to Mordecai's state of being: Rocking back and forth on the kitchen floor, holding the body part that was in pain.

"You just got kicked in the nads."

Mordecai stopped rocking and just laid there laughing lightly. Rigby made miserable little whimpers every now and then, repeating "My ding dong…" in the totally annoying way only Rigby could. Mordecai laughed harder, closed his eyes and felt the strawberry jam from earlier crust in his feathers.

Saturdays were always pretty tame.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Mordecai and Rigby showered afterwards and decided to wander aimlessly outside.

It was their second to last day here until winter break, and they wanted to make the best of it. Not that they were going to miss the park, but when you spend three years somewhere- hell anywhere- you tend to grow attached. Mordecai suggested they throw random crap in the fountain and see how big their splashes were. Rigby shrugged and went along with the plan. The walk to said fountain located in the center of the park got boring the first two minutes. The more bored they got the slower they moved, which in turn made the conversation they had get duller and duller. It was the kind you have where you run out of stuff to say and just start pointing out facts. 'It's cold out', 'I'm bored', and 'It's really cold out' were conversation staples.

"This break always comes too late." Mordecai said absentmindedly.

Rigby didn't respond. He just 'hmmed' and looked straight ahead. Mordecai saw this time off as a miracle from little puffy cloud baby Jesus. He lately found himself (ironically) overworked and stressed out. He thought he deserved a long, peaceful vacation.

"What are we gonna do over the break?" Mordecai asked more to the sky. Rigby kicked up some dead leaves.

"I thought we'd have the Alternate Reality goggles and go to that expo in the east. But someone sent our stuff to Africa or whatever."

"Hey, hey. Let's not start that again." Mordecai narrowed his eyes at Rigby. Rigby barely even noticed.

"To be honest I'd go to a friggin' poop eating contest as long as we get the H away from here." Rigby admitted.

"Agreed! Hmm, hmm."

"Agreement to your agreement! Hmm, hmm."

"Triple agreement Hmm, hmm!" Mordecai chirped.

Before Rigby could Quadruple Agree, a golf cart careened out of freaking nowhere and almost ran Mordecai and Rigby over. The two friends leapt out of the way just in the nick of time, and landed in a pile of leaves. The duo quickly got up to see the reckless motorists who almost ended them.

"What the H Muscle Man? We can't walk in the park without being murdered?" Rigby yelled at the green man as he shook his fist. Mordecai looked on, extremely pissed.

"God Fives did you see their faces? I can tell the exact moment they crapped their silk panties!" Muscle Man laughed at the two in his gargled deep voice everyone grew to hate.

High Five Ghost floated right next to Muscle Man, smiling lively. Mordecai wondered why such an average, generally likeable dude like High Five Ghost always hung out with Muscle Man, The Designated Asshole. He assumed it was one of those mysteries people would never solve. Ever.

"Ugh. Muscle Man just tell us what you want so we can go back to pretending you don't exist." Mordecai dusted some dirt off his blue jacket.

High Five Ghost's smile widened as Muscle Man answered. "Oh we were just in the neighborhood and decided to drop by with THESE!" Muscle Man melodramatically pulled out two shining passes that burned the corneas if one stared for too long. "Buttmuchers, behold!"

Rigby and Mordecai's faces grew emotionless as the two stared on dumbly.

"Are those…?" They simultaneously said, in shock.

"Yes they are!" High Five Ghost finally spoke in his quivery, high pitched voice.

"Fist Pump: Winter Fisting Tour backstage passes!" Everyone announced together. Of course, Mordecai and Rigby's tone of voice was much more melancholy.

"Need some glue for those cracked faces?" and with that Muscle Man and High Five Ghost did what they did best. High fived. And acted like complete douches.

"Wait, wait, wait. How did a _tool_ like you get backstage passes?" Mordecai questioned, all indignant.

Muscle Man laughed how a pig with a smoker's voice might laugh.

"Easy man. I went up to the band, told them about my awesome roadie skills, and they hired us to rig their entire tour!"

"This can't be happening… This… This is punishment for the soap we put in Benson's coffee two days ago." Rigby hypothesized in a disbelieving way.

"I'm thinking that's complete BS. I'm thinking you just ate their manager and they had to find a way to escape, so they bribed you." Mordecai accused, pointing a finger.

"You know who else eats famous band managers?" Muscle Man innocently asked , starting up the golf cart. Mordecai and Rigby groaned, waiting for the same worn out punch line. "MY MOM!"

"That's it!" Rigby huffed, getting ready to attack, but the taller blue jay simply put a hand to his chest and held Rigby back. Muscle Man wasn't worth the energy.

"You can believe what you want ladies, but at the end of the day me and Fives are going on tour!" Muscle Man yelled at the top of his lungs as the golf cart spun around a few times and they drove past. "That's right! We'll be fisting while you two are stuck here! WOOHOOO!" The ghost and green man whooshed away just as quickly as the came.

"This sucks milk balls," Rigby sulked.

Mordecai found it very hard to disagree. Nevertheless, he sent a reassuring smile Rigby's way. Hope wasn't totally lost. Even if they spent the very little money they had combined, they would not be stuck at the house for winter break. They just needed to see what the city had to offer. And soon an idea popped into Mordecai's brain. He grinned to himself.

"Dude, let's go to the Coffee Shop."


	2. Chapter 2

Upon walking into the Coffee Shop, Mordecai and Rigby were attacked by red feathered arms.

"Margaret," Mordecai eased at her touch.

"Guys! Where have you been today? It has been so boring without you!" Margaret chirped. Margaret's grip on both of them grew tighter and tighter until finally Rigby squirmed away chuckling and Mordecai was left alone with the robin; having the breath squeezed out of him. Pulling from her embrace wasn't easy, but when Mordecai got a little wiggle room he took advantage of it.

"Margaret," Mordecai said in a slow, strained voice. "I can't breathe and everything's going black."

"Oh! Sorry." She let go, and put a steadying hand on Mordecai's shoulder. A quick peck on the cheek and Margaret returned to her post, preparing Mordecai and Rigby's order before they even asked. Margaret was awesome like that. Mordecai sat in a barstool conveniently placed nearest to Margaret's work area. Rigby scampered to their usual spot, but not before Mordecai was telling him to swipe a newspaper.

"Uh! Newspapers are for seniors and people who can't afford laptops." Rigby whined.

"Well unless you're growing a money tree nobody knows about, we are the money-less people you speak of. Read the paper and try to look for something fun AND affordable."

Rigby rolled his eyes and got a newspaper (in a snotty, "I Don't Want to Do This!" manner), set it down on the table and started looking for anything interesting.

"You guys are reading now?" Margaret said with faux surprise in her voice. "Must be really important."

"I resent that, miss." Mordecai feigned offense. "Me and Rigby re… Well I read anyway."

Rigby briefly looked up to shoot a pissy look at Mordecai. The two birds laughed at his reaction. Margaret went to some below cabinets to find two medium sized mugs for the two friends. Mordecai watched as Margaret worked. He only just recently noticed she was pretty graceful; her movements ever so delicate. "Seriously though. What are you guys up to?" Margaret asked.

"We're-"

"We're going on a thirty day tour of Danny Silo's estate!" Rigby interrupted, throwing his hands down hard on the wooden table.

"Wha-" Mordecai started as Rigby came over to him.

"Danny Silo's estate was so big it apparently takes a whole month to see it all!" Rigby excitedly read from the article. "We HAVE to check it out!"

Mordecai and Margaret exchanged confused looks.

"Who's Danny Silo?" Margaret asked. Rigby opened his mouth, eager to explain, then shut it in haste. It was then he too had a confused expression.

"Uh… I don't… I don't really know actually." Rigby's expression soon snapped back to excited. "But the guy had a huge mansion in the northern part of the city so he must have been important!"

Mordecai took the newspaper from Rigby's paws and read silently to himself. He furrowed his eyebrows at first, but as he kept reading his face grew more and more horrified. Mordecai read aloud: "Silo Manor, home and workplace of Danny Silo… Famous for **serial killing**, and evading taxes for decades… Taking visitors for month long tour of mad man's **homicidal** labyrinth? _Rigby?_"

Margaret made the tiniest gasp and looked down at Rigby with that _look_. The one people give you when they think you're nuts.

"What? That's interesting!"

"I am not spending a majority of my winter break exploring the ins and outs of a murderer's house, **Rigby**."

"Okay, okay!" Rigby put his hands up in defense. There was a short pause. Rigby looked down at the floor defeated and up again at Mordecai with cheerless, pleading eyes. Mordecai made an aggravated noise.

"No! Rigby! _No_."

"FINE!" Rigby howled as he stomped back to his stool.

Margaret placed a steaming cup of espresso in front of Mordecai, then made her way to Rigby.

"You guys are trying to find something to do for your winter break." Margaret observed.

"Mhmm." Rigby shook his head taking a sip of his coffee. "It'd be a whole lot easier if Mordecai would get over his whole 'serial killer phobia'."

Mordecai stared on, incredulous. "Anyone-and I mean anyone-stupid enough to go into that… That…" Mordecai struggled to find the right words for his disgust. "Unholy Mansion of Hell is even stupider than the people who are allowing it to be toured in the first place."

Rigby scoffed, and made eye contact with Margaret. He gestured to Mordecai and whispered loudly, "That's his way of saying he's all ascared." Rigby pointed and laughed at Mordecai while Margaret stifled a giggle. Mordecai decided he needed new friends. He drank his coffee a little faster.

"Just keep looking dude."

"You guys could totally go to Fist Pump's Winter Fisting Tour!" Margaret suggested, looking at Rigby then Mordecai hopefully. Mordecai loved it when she suggested stuff.

"No can do Marge." Rigby shook his head a bit sadly. "They want some major dough for that major show."

"And also," Mordecai added, "Fist Pump is pretty popular around these parts. It's probably sold out by now."

"And yet Muscle Man and Hive Five Ghost managed to get backstage passes… If there ever was proof Satan existed…" Rigby seethed.

Margaret gave a sympathetic smile to the both of them. "You guys will find something. You always do." Mordecai smiled right back at her. After he finished his coffee Margaret swooped in, collected his mug then placed it in the dishwasher.

Mordecai would have stayed in this very spot their entire break if it were legally (and physically) possible.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Margaret pulled up a stool and sat parallel to Mordecai and Rigby, at their table. She was tired and dizzy from smelling coffee beans all day and decided a long chat with her two favorite people was a perfect way to end her work day. Rigby gulped down his fourth cup of coffee and wrapped up the newspaper. He then stuck it snugly underneath his arm and began to run for the stairs. Mordecai and Margaret took notice.

"Rigby? Where are you going?" Margaret asked warmly.

"I've finally found out what me and Mordecai are gonna do for our time off!" Rigby literally vibrated with excitement. "It's gonna be awesome!"

Mordecai's eyes narrowed. "Do you mind letting me in on this supposedly awesome thing? And it better not be something horrible like that competition you signed us up for last year."

Rigby huffed. "Listen, I said I was sorry! Your feathers grew back didn't they? And I'm pretty sure the police aren't even thinking about it as much as you are! Trust me, man. It's gonna be… Awesome!"

Before Mordecai could object any further, Rigby went up the stairs, through the Coffee Shop doors and out of Mordecai's sight. Mordecai turned back to see Margaret. Staring at him. Dotingly. He couldn't help but grin in curiosity.

"What?" Mordecai asked, laughing slightly.

Margaret stopped staring and turned away from Mordecai. She stretched her arms in front of herself and yawned. "Nothing," She chimed. Margret was always bad at being nonchalant. "Just…"

"Hmm?"

Margaret got up, walked around the table and plopped right down in the stool next to Mordecai. Mordecai reflexively put his arms around her waist. "Y'know what I miss about us dating?" Margaret sighed. She put her head on Mordecai's shoulder.

Without missing a beat Mordecai answered, "The crazy passionate lovemaking."

Margaret elbowed him playfully in the ribs. "No!"

"Cause that's what I miss." Mordecai wiggled his eyebrows.

"No, no, no. I said something I _actually_ missed."

"Well!" Mordecai said half-jokingly. "Ouch!"

"Just being honest."

Mordecai hugged her tighter. "What do you miss. About us?"

"Knowing the guy I went home to wasn't just there for sex." Margaret bent her neck to make eye contact. "Knowing I was loved."

"I still love you." Mordecai said, matter of fact. And he was telling the truth. Mordecai loved Margaret. From the moment he and Margaret got together, during the sex, after the sex, after the horrible arguments, after the break-up. Mordecai still loved Margaret.

He just wasn't **in love **with her anymore.

"I know," Margaret sighed. Mordecai did not like the tone of Margaret's voice. Sad Margaret equated to Sad Mordecai.

"Did something happen? With Jake?"

Margaret made a puzzled face, then apparently remembered. "Jake and I broke up two weeks ago. He said he doesn't see us with a future, I threw an ashtray at his head… Surprisingly, it all went-" Margaret made a crashing and burning noise.

"That's a shame, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. But that's not why I'm bringing this up."

Mordecai tilted his head down. "Oh really?"

Margaret shook her head a bit. "I was talking to my mom…"

"That explains it." Mordecai loudly stated, already amused. To be completely honest, (and Mordecai meant no offense whatsoever) but Margaret's mom was messed up in there. The one and only time he met the older robin, she was covered head to toe in purple and accused Mordecai of being a foot fetishist that was trying to recruit her daughter.

Needless to say, she was a contributing factor to his and Margaret's split.

"She actually made some sense this time!" Margaret tittered while defending her mother.

"Sure she did. Sure she did!" Mordecai could feel the laughter building up inside him. "What'd she tell you this time?"

Margaret deepened her voice to mimic her mother's, and added on the accent. _"'Maggie, ma darlin'… Ya can fool around with as many as ya like, but one is all ya get."_

It was then Mordecai broke out into a fit of guffaws. Manly guffaws, mind you.

Margaret wasn't laughing though. Mordecai took note of this and looked into her eyes.

_How come she always looks so tired?_

"The first time she says something motherly and I feel like crap." Margaret's laugh was humorless.

"Margaret. You don't actually take that to heart do you?"

Margaret made unsure noises. Mordecai gave her a pointed look.

"It makes sense."

"People can fall in love as many times as they want! Sometimes with different people. Sometimes simultaneously." Margaret deflated in Mordecai's arms. He felt her detach. She smiled weakly.

"Can't you act like a dick so I won't miss you as much?" Margaret griped.

"Nah," Mordecai said airily. "It would destroy my suavity."

Mordecai nodded slightly as Margaret became dead silent. They then broke into uncontrollable grins and snorts and people staring from the outside probably thought they were together, the nosy pervs. Margaret warmly smiled then glanced up at the clock near the entrance. She had the most adorable freak out, in Mordecai's opinion anyway.

"Holy crap! I gotta go!" Margaret stood up and ran into the back of the shop. Mordecai followed her. She re-emerged in her regular clothes (a yellow tank top and some skinny jeans) and hung her uniform on the rack next to the telephone. "And you have to go too, I'm afraid. Closing time."

"Aww… I'd rather talk about the old times some more. The dinner dates, the break-up sex, the inevitable make-up sex…"

Margaret couldn't have faked a better "I Wanna Punch You In the Face" face.

"I'm late for a… Thing with Eileen." She rushed Mordecai up the stairs and out of the Coffee Shop.

"Fine. So I'll see you later?" Mordecai asked as Margaret locked up.

"Absolutely."

"Around 3?"

"Sure."

"Your apartment?"

"Yeah, _no_."

"Darn." Mordecai snapped his fingers. Margaret kissed him on the top of his head and began to jog. The spot where she kissed him seeped into his feathers; pleasantly burned into his skin.

Margaret shouted over her shoulder, "Nice try though!"

Mordecai beamed.

_Well. It was worth a shot._


	3. Chapter 3

Tap. Taptap. Clickclick.

Benson never thought the tapping of a calculator's buttons could scare the crap out of him. Mr. Maellard would stop periodically to glare at Benson, whilst shaking his large head disapprovingly. Mr. Maellard's been doing that ever since Benson began working for him. He thought he'd eventually get used to it. Benson shifted nervously in the chair facing Mr. Maelllard's desk.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Clickclickclick.

_This year wasn't that bad… Was it? No. I don't think so. That thing with the mutant alligator set us back a few thousand, but… And the incident with all the utensils becoming sentient. And then the city fined us for the whole "raining assorted steaming hot beverages" fiasco… But other than those isolated incidents, we're good. We're fine. _

Benson pushed pause on his thoughts. Then rewind. Replay.

_God I hate end of the year evaluations_.

Mr. Maellard gave a particularly nasty look this time. Benson assumed he got to police fines.

_But it's not my fault. I swear to God it's not my fault. It was them. It's always them. Mordecai and Rigby. Any and all trouble and financial woes and run ins with the law and just all around crappiness was THEIR faults. They exude failure. And immaturity; they reek of that. I don't have the slightest clue why they're still around I should have fired them ages ago it is a recession after all people were desperate for jobs they'd do anything that's what I'll do yes yes YES! The minute they come back from their break I'll be standing on the porch and just fire their asses before they even reach the first step_-

"Beanton." Mr. Maellard began, already annoyed.

The old lollipop man had stopped click-clacking on his giant calculator and leaned forward, hands firmly perched on his desk. Like the "evil corporate" type you see in movies.

"Yes sir?"

"Beanton… I'm not happy."

_Well that's nothing new. _

"I'm sorry sir." Benson tried his very hardest to drum up actual pity. Practice had made perfect, thank goodness.

"Do you know why? Why am I unhappy Benton?"

_You found out you have to actually __**pay**__ taxes? _

"Is it my job performance sir?" Benson gently asked.

Mr. Maellard scowled. "More of a lack there of."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I don't care Benton." Mr. Maellard said, low and irate.

"I'm sor.. What can I do to change that sir?"

Mr. Maellard threw millions of documents at Benson and they landed on the gumball machine's lap. Benson was in shock.

_What the hell? _

"My fortune! Dwindling away because of your poor leadership skills! Are you trying to ruin me?"

"Sir please calm down." Benson put his hands up defensively; his eyes were wide. On the inside, Benson was a fury of obscenities and he really wanted to get up from his seat and punch the old bastard in the face, but the bills had to be paid. He did his exercises.

In and out. In and out.

"Calm down? **Calm down?" **Mr. Maellard laughed bitterly. He smiled maniacally. "Yes! Of course! I'm slowly but surely being put in the poor house but I'll calm down! Thank you for the suggestion!"

"Sir I-I think your anger is misdirected."

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir. A lot of these incidents are the fault of those employees I hired two years ago. Mordecai and Rigby? Well, in a recent report it would be obvious to anyone with eyes-"

"So now you're saying I'm blind?"

Benson blinked more than necessary. "No, no, no! Not at all, sir!"

"I read your report! And I see what you're trying to do."

"I'm not- I'm not trying to do anything but explain to you that all of goings on-"

"Stop right there." Mr. Maellard spit. He searched around in his desk for something, then held a paper in his crusty hands and read aloud one occurrence.

"The one thousand dollar donation to the Salvation Army. That was you, Agreed?"

Benson sat back; bewildered. "Agreed, I guess…"

" So those two employees aren't the only ones pissing my money away, are they?"

_What. The. Hell? _

"I… I don't think being fined and donating to a _charity_ are the same thing, sir." Benson laughed uneasily.

"Those bleeding hearts and their causes. I didn't work my hands to the bone to give hobos sandwich money. I can understand with the police. That's mandatory. You _voluntarily _gave those hippies money! My money!"

Benson realized why, in the early years of working for Mr. Maellard and his hatred for him fresh, Mr. Maellard never had the heart attack Benson prayed for.

The old bastarddidn'thave a heart.

"Once again… I'm sorry, sir." Benson said, insincere.

"Once again. I don't care." Mr. Maellard seemed to calm himself, as he had stopped shouting and settled for an infuriated growl. "I brought you here today to discuss these issues with you, and see what excuse you'd give me. But I'm just… Disappointed to hear the same one I hear when I call you into my office. The old 'Morton and Roger" defense. Time after time after time."

"Mordecai and Rigby, sir."

"Shut your face and don't you ever interrupt me again!" Mr. Maellard boomed. Benson cringed. Mr. Maellard sucked in his teeth. The older man adjusted his green scarf, and took a deep breath. "For everything and anything that happens here, I will forever and always blame you. It doesn't matter if you were the center of it all. It doesn't even matter if you were in another country when the incident happens. None of the details matter to me. If it happens here, it falls on your shoulders. No exceptions. Understood?"

"Yeah. Yes. I understand, sir."

Mr. Maellard grinned. "Good! Now there comes the small matter of your making it up to me."

_I jump across the desk and land on him. I take the heaviest object, a lamp, and bash him in the face. Then I do it again. And again. And again. And again. I'm covered in his blood. I smile. _

"I… I'm afraid I don't have the funds to pay you back sir." Benson tiredly explained.

"But you have enough money to throw at homeless drunks? Peculiar. Oh that's right! It wasn't your money to give! Silly me."

Benson was stuck. He was not expected this evaluation to be this bad. Well. Yes he did. But he didn't expect to owe something for his supposed sabotaging. He missed when he was yelled at, humiliated then sent on his merry way.

Benson stared outside. The trees were bare and the sky was gray. Pops was practicing his cartwheels. Skips was watching over him, Benson assumed. Benson did not want to be in Mr. Maellard's office, obviously. He should've been amongst the dead leaves, shooting the landscape.

'_Desperate times,' I suppose… _

"I'll give up my vacation to look over the park."

Mr. Maellard stared at him indifferently. No response could be seen on crinkled face.

"Hmm. Wasn't expecting that from you, Beanbag. Are you serious? Not trying to kiss up to me are you?"

"Not at all sir. If this will prove my dedication to you and my job… I want to do it."

"Really? You're positive?"

"Yes." Benson urged. He wouldn't allow himself to plead. To give the old fart the satisfaction. "I am one hundred percent positive."

Mr. Maellard, in true Disney villain fashion, rubbed his hands together. "I'm so thrilled to hear you say that."

"You what now?"

Skips was not making any of this better sounding. He had the friendliest way to repeat back to Benson what he had just been told in such a disappointing tone that made Benson feel like a grade A jackass.

"I'm stuck here for the rest of December. And all of January. Effective tomorrow." Benson blew out the smoke he'd been holding in.

Benson was leaning against the garage wall, glancing ever so often out the open door, one foot on the wall the other planted firmly on the ground, as Skips was lifting his weights. He watched as the white yeti sat with massive dumbbells in each hand, making them go up and down, up and down, up and down… Like it was nothing. Skips showed no strain in his voice.

"I'm guessin' you suggested it in the first place?"

"Yes. Unfortunately," Benson admitted glumly.

"And Mr. Maellard asked if you were one hundred percent sure, givin' you an out, but you persisted?"

Benson took a long drag. Then released.

"Yes."

"And you offered to do it free of charge. Which he of course accepted?"

Benson took an even longer drag. But he didn't release. Nor did he affirm Skips' assumption. Skips turned his head to read Benson's face, and was met with embarrassed eyes averting his own.

"Damn, man."

"I know! I know! I wasn't thinking straight." said Benson finally, the smoke escaping from his lips. "Mr. Maellard did that thing, Y'know? The glare and nod… Thing. Just… Stop, please."

"Stop what?" Skips asked in his usual gruffly speaking voice.

"The furrowed eyebrows and the grimace and the judgment. I can feel you branding 'idiot' on my forehead with your eyeballs as we speak." Benson sucked on his cigarette so hard his face hollowed out.

"Hey, hey. Stop. In this day and age a man has to jump a few hoops to put food on the table. You were caught between your free time and your money, and the choice you made was understandable. There's no shame in that."

Benson released a smoke ring from his mouth. He looked Skips up and down.

_That was sweet of him. _

"No shame?" Benson asked, unsure.

"Not at all." Skips reassured, putting the weights away for another time. The yeti dropped the dumbbells, stood up from the bench, and bent down to stretch his legs. Benson thanked God for Skips. Daily.

"So I made the right decision?"

Skips made a sour face. "Oh no. No. Definitely not. You were better off payin' him by sellin' everything you owned. Maintainin' this place by yourself is gonna be hell, I'm sorry to say from experience."

"Uh…" Benson groaned as he slid down the wall, head in hands. He held the cigarette between his pointer and middle finger. "I'm so screwed."

"It'll be easy without us." Skips said, stretching side to side and staring off with wistfulness. "Things will stay clean and it'll be quiet. And you'll enjoy it. But then soon things are too clean. Too quiet. You start hearin' noises that ain't there. Seein' things appear and disappear. Like magic. And that's just the beginning."

"Not helping…" Benson complained.

"Then the cabin fever will set in." Skips continued, completely ignoring him. "You'll start to get shifty eyes. One minute you're sure your sanity's firmly within reach, next thing ya know, you're havin' an argument with the refrigerator when the couch suddenly interrupts to accuse you of stealin' it's quarters."

"I'm so… Utterly… Screwed," Benson griped.

"Think about it this way," Skips offered sympathetically. Skips said nothing, stretched his arms and yawned. Benson lifted his head, and uncurled from his Ball of Shame to look at Skips. He waited for Skips to continue. He eventually grew impatient and coughed excessively.

"Well?"

"Gimme a minute… I'm still thinkin'…" Skips waved a hand at Benson to make him be quiet while he thought.

"I'm doomed, aren't I?"

Skips weakly smiled. "Sorry, Benson."

"No, no… I have myself to blame for the situation I'm in." Benson's expression suddenly turned vicious. "And those two **wastes** of egg and sperm."

Skips laughed. Benson eased up at the sound of Skips chuckling. It was a rare sound. Sort of endearing if he allowed himself to think about it.

"Well that's one positive." Skips pointed out.

"Hmm?"

"Time spent away from Mordecai and Rigby."

Benson laughed a bitter laugh. "Yeah. There's that." Benson quickly stood up straight and stomped out his cigarette and began to walk away, but soon stopped, realizing he wanted to ask Skips something. Benson opened his mouth but Skips intervened by speaking first.

"I'll check up on you, sometimes. Of course."

Benson let out a breath he had no idea he was holding in.

_Of course. Of course he would._

"Thanks, Skips."

"No problem at all." Skips said cracking his neck.

Benson turned on his heel, smiling to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

And because Benson obviously was a Nazi Baby-Eater in a previously life, his day went from worse, to craptastic!

Specifically speaking, the kitchen looked like it had been throwing up all morning.

"What the hell happened in here?"

Benson only had enough time to shower and run down to Mr. Maellard's office to be belittled as a living person so he couldn't actually check up on the house. He could feel the anger swim inside him. Red was spreading across his face and his hands began to clench into fists.

_Of course this happens today. Of all days. _

The table was knocked over and covered in the breakfast someone had, the walls were covered (as well as the walls) with ketchup and omelet. Broken dishes were sporadically spread all over. The floor also seemed to be a pool of milk and bran cereal. Cabinets were opened and in disarray. Pots and pans left and right. The counters would take forever and a day to get that melted strawberry jam off. The entire room just… Made Benson's head hurt. Perhaps the rotten, greasy banana peel on top of that crap sundae was the missing window above the kitchen sink. Not broken, or shattered. Missing. The glass was gone. Benson had assumed the glass shards would be in the aforementioned sink, but they weren't there.

"Oh my…"

Benson jumped out of his casing and spun around ready to attack. He had been so angry observing the messy kitchen he didn't notice Pops materialize next to him, it seemed.

"Pops! You scared me!" Benson said, heart pounding in his chest.

"My deepest and sincerest apologies, Benson." said Pops, grinning ear to ear. "I just came back from cartwheels and I happened to spot you examining the kitchen in your usual cantankerous manner."

Benson studied Pops. He was wearing his usual black vest and dress pants but in addition donned some knee pads and elbow pads Skips had given him once the old gentleman had taken an interest in tumbling. It came out of nowhere, as most of Pops' hobbies usually do.

"Someone destroyed the kitchen. This place is a mess." Benson muttered, struggling to keep his voice clear and his language clean.

"Yes, a mess it is indeed… Oh! Oh Benson look!" Pops eagerly pointed to something on the kitchen floor. Benson looked in the direction Pops was motioning to and saw a brown box filled with pink stuff, a novel with some blonde chick on it and a video tape. Benson went into the center of the kitchen and picked up the open package.

"What's this?"

Pops walked beside Benson once again, staring down at the package.

"It seems to be a package intended for a lady."

"Then why is it here?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, I'm afraid." Pops scratched his chin, appearing to be in very deep thought. That deep thinking came to a screeching halt when Pops noticed where he was and what was on the floor. "But look at all this neat broken dinnerware!"

Benson ignored Pop's 'ohs'' and 'awes' and went next to the window. He couldn't believe it.

_The glass is completely gone. How did those two idiots manage that? _

Benson, for a spilt second, thought maybe the house was broken into.

But then he thought better.

_Nobody breaks into a house and leaves things behind. Unless criminals are physically dyslexic nowadays. No. This could only be the work of two people._

"Benson? May I have these pretty please?" Benson heard Pops call from a distance.

"Sure Pops, go ahead." Benson answered not even looking at the lollipop man.

"_Oh_ splendid!" And with that Pops pranced off and upstairs to his room.

Benson did not feel like prancing about. He did feel, however, like holding someone underwater until the bubbles stopped coming up. Benson took the open package and threw it into the trash can, then decided to have a little "chitchat" with Mordecai and Rigby over the walkie talkie. Benson started to walk out of the kitchen when a piece of bread landed upon his head.

Benson looked up at the ceiling.

"How the **hell** did they get peanut butter up there?"

Mordecai was walking back to the house when his walkie talkie buzzed with Rigby's voice.

"_Dude! _Dude. _You're gonna freak_, _I swear to Bob you're gonna freak!" _Rigby's voice fell and rose.

Mordecai wished he was there to see his friend's enthusiasm make his body shake.

"Why am I gonna freak, dude? And who's this Bob you swear to?" Mordecai asked, voice boring.

"_Oh man… I saw this add in the paper for like… These classes and… I'm gonna be like Van Helsing dude!" _

Mordecai made his way to the park gates and stopped in front. He wondered if his walkie was getting interference or Rigby was just drunk/crazy. Because that sentence didn't make a lick of sense.

"What?"

"_It's a government program to kick monster ass! I had to sign this contract and they gave me this… Magic gun thing… And there was a signed poster of Lou Diamond Philips!"_

Mordecai came to the deduction that Rigby was high. "Sure dude. How much were these classes?"

"_Forty. Two classes each week for six weeks! What a steal~!" _Rigby sang.

Mordecai didn't feel like answering with his usual "yeah-a-uhh!", but his curiosity was peeked.

"Forty dollars for the both of us? Does sound like a good deal."

Rigby was silent for a moment, but soon yelled into his walkie,

"_I'll be home in a few minutes dude." _

And Rigby's walkie went dead. Mordecai gawked down at the walkie talkie, very baffled.

Rigby was a strange little dude. Not that that was news to him. Mordecai put the device back on his hip and didn't even put his right foot in front of his left before a homeless man began to cough violently facing him. He stood up from the curb and stared at Mordecai.

The man was wearing multiple jackets all assorted colors and all of different sizes. A trucker's hat sat lopsided on his head. He had a long, messy off-white beard and Mordecai thought he saw something green growing from it. In his raggedy clothes, the man limped his way toward Mordecai.

"Hello sir." said Mordecai, hoping his uneasiness didn't show in his voice. "Do you need something?"

The man said nothing as he eventually stood in front of him. His hands lifted up and settled on Mordecai's shoulders. His mouth opened and closed.

But no sound came out.

"Sir? Are you sick or something?"

Open. Close. Open. Close.

A majority of the homeless man's teeth were gone and what teeth were left were an icky brown.

"Should I get you an ambulance? Are you okay?" Mordecai asked, a little alarmed.

Open. Close. Open. Close.

His breath smiled of lunchmeat and hot milk.

Mordecai noticed his eyes were squinted, near closed even.

"I'm gonna go. Sorry I don't have any…" Mordecai trailed off when the homeless man closed his mouth and stopped trying to speak. "Goodbye."

Mordecai tried to move but the homeless man held him firmly with his hands.

"Goodbye, sir."

The homeless man didn't let go. That was when Mordecai officially panicked.

"Dude let me go."

Nothing.

"Dude please. Let me go."

No response.

"Let me _go!" _

Mordecai shoved the homeless man's chest but he had a very strong grip on Mordecai. The homeless man finally opened up eyelids to reveal milky white eyes. His face folded up furiously. Mordecai jerked in every direction as the homeless man yelled in a crazed stupor.

"Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis!"

"Help me! Please! Someone! I'm being accosted by a crazy hobo!" Mordecai shouted desperately.

"Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis! Turpis lupis!"

Mordecai fought and kicked against the insane homeless man, getting more and more terrified with each passing minute.

"You're insane! Let me go!"

Mordecai could hear a car quickly approaching. He didn't realize he and the man were standing in the middle of the street at that time. He had to get out of there. But the homeless man clung to him like a boa. Mordecai began to breathe unevenly. He looked around for help. No one. The homeless ,an was still screaming gibberish. The car was getting closer. Mordecai got an idea. It was… Quite frankly in was disgusting. The homeless babbled and ranted. The car was even closer now. He needed to act fast. The homeless man began to shake him back and forth. His vision shook as well, the car speeding up towards him while it moved in all directions. Mordecai then grabbed hold of the homeless man's arms and bit him. The homeless man drew back in pain while he clutched his arm in pain. Mordecai instantly regretted this decision when a strong dirt and mayonnaise taste invaded his mouth. He thought he was better off choosing to get hit by the car, which he totally had forgotten about until it was entirely too late to get out of the way.

Mordecai still thought the "tasting an old, dirty homeless man" thing was still worse.


	5. Chapter 5

Neither answered. Benson knew for a fact they usually ignored his pages and calls, blaming it on "interferences". So he guessed it was dumb of him to expect anything resembling a reply.

Benson threw his walkie down and rose up from the sofa, muttering obscenities and whatnot.

It was bad enough he couldn't technically fire them (some weird glitch in the system that takes them off the clock after Christmas.) but also, in addition to, they were allowed to stay around until their vacation started.

Needless to say, Christmas and on was a holly jolly hell. With candy canes.

Benson put on his red and gray scarf and made sure his boots were secure. "Pops, you call me if either one of those slackers come in," Benson ordered.

"But what if they bribe me with sugary byproducts?" Pops asked with worry etched in his face.

Benson sighed, mildly irritated. "Then you say 'no', Pops."

"Oh," Pops nodded astonished, because, wow. That response had never occurred to him.

Benson left Pops looking out the living room window intently and he walked briskly down the park's main trail. As he got closer and closer to the park entrance, Benson noticed a little crowd of people gathering. Maybe six or seven people.

It was probably a bird or something, lying dead in the middle of the street. It never failed to amuse Benson how people could be so amazed by road kill. As he neared the gates the crowd got larger, fourteen people surrounded the area all of a sudden, and Benson heard police sirens.

Benson picked up his pace.

Finally out on the sidewalk, Benson saw Mr. Maellard's white limo. And the crowd circled something next to aforementioned white limo.

Benson ran into the crowd, pushing people to the side. It seemed like a never ending sea of bodies as he excused himself and pushed and his heart was racing and what happened and where were the police and everything and everyone didn't matter at that moment because… Benson exhaled.

There laid a presumably homeless man. Still on the ground.

He was not breathing.

Everyone looked down at the poor man, with faces of horror and genuine concern. Thoughts went through their minds and they asked themselves internally: "Who was this person?", "Did he have any loved ones?", and "What were his last thoughts before he…?"

Benson only thought about how vehicular homicide wasn't something that would go away with city fines. He looked inside the white limo and noticed Mr. Maellard wasn't in the car, which he took as a bad sign. Benson faced the crowd and got their attention.

"Has anyone seen the driver?"

"Yeah. He's over there next to the other guy he hit." A man in a hideous orange sweater pointed to an ambulance Benson hadn't noticed.

Mordecai sat in the ambulance with an ice pack pressed against his forehead. He looked more angry than in pain. Mr. Maellard stood adjacent leaning on his dark wood cane and was just as (if not more so) angry as the injured Mordecai. Benson decided it best to get Mr. Maellard's side first, so he made a b-line for his boss.

"Mr. Maellard sir! What happened?"

"Isn't it obvious? Mr. Maellard hit me with his limo!" Mordecai answered for him. Mordecai was covered in scratches and scraps and spoke with fuming zeal.

"Young man what exactly where you doing in the middle of the street?" said Mr. Maellard, voice tight and accusing.

Mordecai's eyes narrowed. "I was being manhandled by a gibberish speaking hobo when** you hit me with your limo**."

Benson made a somewhat sympathetic face at Mordecai and then stared in ill wonder at Mr. Maellard. Mr. Maellard frowned. He seemed more annoyed than remorseful, and Benson really didn't expect much else. Heartless is as heartless does. Benson didn't say that out loud. He knew he should've, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"What? He was standing right in the middle of a busy street!" Mr. Maellard turned his body towards Mordecai and crossed his short arms. "What did you expect to happen?"

Mr. Maellard narrowed his eyes as well, but he was much more menacing than Mordecai. What with the wicked scowl and all.

"**You **ran me over. You **ran**. Me **over**!" Mordecai thought if he put emphasis on choice words he would really stick the point to Mr. Maellard. It did not work. Mordecai was steadily getting more and more visibly upset, Benson observed. The ancient lollipop man however stayed perfectly uncaring. He couldn't have looked any more indifferent.

Benson wouldn't have been shocked if Mr. Maellard had evilly cackled as his car and Mordecai/the hobo made contact.

"And that hobo? He's dead. Never mind my possible concussion… You _killed_ a guy!"

"We don't know for sure if he's dead." Mr. Maellard said dismissively.

A short, redheaded EMT appeared, as if on cue. "No, no, that hobo is dead." She cheerily clarified. "No doubt about that. How's your noggin, cutie?"

Mordecai groaned a little and leaned into the ambulance's side as he closed his eyes.

"Oh dear. I'll get you a new ice pack. But then you'll have to make way for the hobo. Who is absolutely dead."

"You won't take me to the hospital?" Mordecai moaned.

The EMT smiled sadly. "Budget cuts, dearest."

Benson watched the ginger EMT go into the ambulance truck's back. She reappeared with a blue ice pack and replaced it with the old, warm one and helped Mordecai off the emergency vehicle. Benson felt a tiny twinge of pity for Mordecai.

The crowd was being interviewed by the police duo that had finally arrived. Nobody seemed to know anything other than the dead hobo was a city regular, frequently limping around and speaking his crazy words to anyone who got close enough. An African-American woman in a big, poofy winter coat did tell one of the officers that the man was snooping around her house the week prior. He chanted in the famous dead language, then relieved himself in her garden and wandered off.

"That takes care of that." Mr. Maellard said as he studied the dead man from a distance. "That just leaves the small matter of my emotional distress."

"_Your_ emotional distress?" said Benson. He just realized he hadn't really said much since he joined Mordecai and Mr. Maellard.

"Yes my emotional stress Beanbag! This entire ordeal has affected me too!"

"How sir?" Benson found it very difficult to keep his voice at a neutral tone.

Mr. Maellard walked towards his car and stuck his nose in the air, eyes dead and icy. He lifted his cane and melodramatically pointed to the limo's grill. "Young man, you've **dented** my car!"

"Sir…" Benson started. He tried to ignore Mordecai's hands turning into fists.

"Wha-" Mordecai's eyes became saucers and he gritted his teeth.

"Do you know how much money it will take to get that fixed? Not to mention that hobo blood staining the windshield!"

"You…" Mordecai seethed.

"Sir, I think you're missing the point entirely-"

"Yes I could easily wash it away, but I'll _know_ it was there. I can't wash it from my subconscious!"

"Comparing a dented car to an actual death-"

"So you do blame me for all this hubbub, huh Beanton?" Mr. Maellard snarled.

Benson blinked one million times and couldn't say anything other than a dumb "Uh" or "Um".

Mordecai finally exploded. "You could've killed me, you soulless son of a bi-"

And then, a spontaneous cloud of purple and glitz appeared. Everyone from the central three men to the police to the fourteen or so people that made up the crowd were literally forced back by the gust of wind the purple cloud emitted and were then blinded by a glorious light, which cleared to reveal an average looking man in a clean black business suit.

Everyone sans Mr. Maellard stood awestruck.

"Whoa there potty mouth! I think that was my cue." The man announced in a very, _very_ news broadcaster like voice.

"Who are you?" Benson asked immediately suspicious of the stranger.

He had learned a long time ago that men that appear in clouds of mystical purple stardust aren't exactly stand-up guys.

"Finally!" Mr. Maellard stood next to the purple cloud man. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is my longtime friend and longer time lawyer, Jerry McGuire." Mr. Maellard put a fatherly hand on the supposed Jerry's shoulder.

"Yes! I'm sure you've all heard of me. Lawyer to the wealthy," the Jerry character said proudly.

"Like the movie!" a brown haired man in his early thirties said smiling wide.

Jerry made a small grimace but continued. "Giving a voice to the big guy." Jerry smiled such a superhero smile, it was infectious.

"Just like the film!"

Jerry pointedly stopped and looked at the man. He took a breath and continued with his introduction speech.

"Salvation to caviar eaters everywhere."

"Yeah!" the man mentioned again "Like the movie!" .

Jerry's face took on a scary ferocity. "No, not like the movie **AT ALL**!" Jerry snapped, giving a death glare to anyone who met his eyes.

Silence fell over everyone and uncomfortable coughs commenced.

"So… Why are you here Mr. McGuire?" asked Benson.

"Well! I understand there was an accident of the vehicular variety?"

"Hell yeah there was!" Mordecai bellowed. "Your client ran me over! And he _killed_ a guy!"

Jerry perked up and decided to study the body himself. The crowd of people parted like the Red Sea when Jerry waltzed over to the dead hobo and leered over him. He bended down and placed two fingers firmly on his neck. He stalled, then rose back up with the same dashing smile.

"Yep. He's deader than disco."

"Told ya!" the spunky EMT declared.

Mordecai sneered at Mr. Maellard. "You are so sued."

Jerry held up his hands and addressed the crowd. "But can we really be sure he died from the impact? I mean _really _sure? Perhaps he saw the car coming and suffered a heart attack."

"WHAT?"

Jerry nodded a few times then confidently looked upon the two police officers. "That's how he died. A heart attack." Jerry's eyes gleamed a little and his smile grew to Cheshire cat proportions.

"That's complete bull!" Mordecai spat. He wobbled a little and struggled to catch his balance.

"Nothing should be ruled out just yet." Benson nodded along with Jerry.

The entire crowd of people were nodding too. Even the two police officers were nodding.

"A heart attack would be totally probable." The short officer said to the tall.

"Yes." Jerry said standing in front of Mordecai. "And you were the other 'victim' I assume?"

"Yes. Yes I am. I am the guy that didn't **die** from being run over!" Mordecai said flushed and defensive.

Jerry looked into Mordecai's eyes and tilted his head. "How are we supposed to believe an accident even occurred, Morton?"

"Mordecai."

"Sure you _look_ like you've been run over. But no one here actually _saw_ you being run over." Jerry stated. "And I recall seeing that dent in Mr. Maellard's car before."

"I didn't even see him!" Mr. Maellard chimed in, smiling pretty hard.

"He's got a point!" the other police officer said chuckling to his partner.

"The injuries aren't even that major, now that I think of it…" The EMT said, absentmindedly.

Mordecai felt betrayed. He actually liked the EMT lady.

"That makes perfect sense to me." Benson eyed Mordecai with rising suspicion.

"Benson. _Seriously_? Seriously Benson?"

It was almost like… Jerry was charming the crowd against Mordecai. That… That was exactly what was happening. With a twist of his tongue and flip of his chocolate hair and that gleam in his eyes that Jerry made Mordecai look pretty shady.

"I'm willing to bet our feathered friend just happens to get into a lot of 'accidents', I'm a correct?" Jerry asked Benson.

"As a matter a fact he does!" Benson said sharply, shooting a nasty look towards Mordecai. "Along with his little friend."

"Am I correct, Morty?" Jerry asked Mordecai.

Jerry's eyes dug deep into Mordecai's. Mordecai could almost feel a burning in his corneas, a powerful tug could be felt behind his eyeballs and Mordecai had no idea Jerry McGuire's eyebrows were bouncing like that. Weird asshole. Jerry's eyes twitched but his smile did not falter. Mordecai stared right back, unfazed. He wasn't afraid. Though Jerry wasn't really trying to be intimidating, it seemed. Jerry broke eye contact and walked closer to the crowd of onlookers.

"Sounds pretty fishy to me, folks. But then again, I'm just a guy with a couple of law degrees. What do _I_ know?"

Murmurs against Mordecai floated through the air. The policemen disapprovingly shook their heads. Benson took on a whole new attitude towards a situation. What was a calm neutrality became slight disdain for Mr. Maellard, which finally became a full fledged, undeserved resentment toward his employee.

Mordecai wanted to know when the kool-aid was handed out.

"Fine city folk, go home. No accident happened here. What did happen was an unfortunate natural death of a man who, due to his homelessness, was probably so mentally unstable he probably didn't know where he was. And a young blue jay who is so… So desperate for attention in this age of Youface and Booktube, that he jumped in front of the car of an innocent older gentlemen who was trying to collect his son for some quality time. Quality time before he had to return back to work. Making the park beautiful for you. And you. And you sir! In the parka! He makes the park beautiful for you! For everyone!"

Jerry paused, choked up and put a hand to his eyes. He held up the other hand in a "One moment please" gesture. He removed the hand and revealed tears streaming down his face. He walked over to a man and put his hands on his shoulders. He choked up again and slowly turned to point at Mr. Maellard who was smiling smugly.

"He took the land and made it beautiful. Like Johnny Appleseed, who skipped along New York and planted delicious pears for Mom's cobbler. Or Like Jesus! Who gave fish and bread to Moses so he could live in that cave to light the menorah of Kwanzaa for eight days. He is Mr. Maellard. And he is our Jesus Appleseed!"

An eruption of applause was bestowed upon Jerry McGuire as he blew kisses to the crowd, every once and awhile bowing to everyone. The policemen enjoyed the performance the most, if the way they cheered and hollered was anything to go by. Benson sighed dreamily.

"I have a soft spot for the homeless therefore I am persuaded!" A forty-ish woman said as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"As a parent, the comment referencing to technology touched me on a personal level!" A balding man honestly announced.

"I have a prejudice against anthropomorphic animals and mistrusted the blue jay from the beginning!" a mother looking type of woman said whilst angrily staring at Mordecai.

"What the HELL is wrong with you all? That man right there! You see him right? He **murdered** that homeless man with his limo! **He ran me over! **That dent in his limo? It's in the shape of _me_! Why on earth would I jump in front of a car? One, that's crazy. Two, that's _crazy!_ And three, there are easier ways to get attention without running the risk of internal bleeding! Are you all having some sort of aneurysm?"

"So you do do this sort of thing often!" the balding man said, disgust painted all over his face.

"Oh my _God_ that's not what I meant!"

"You know what? I've heard enough. Go home folks; nothing to see here!" a police officer called to the crowd of people.

Everyone disbanded, but not without voicing their newfound hatred for Mordecai. The EMT lady disappointedly sighed, closed the ambulance doors and drove off. Mordecai sat on the curb feeling deflated and defeated.

The taller of the two officers came up to Jerry. "I fully trust you to settle this situation. Do what you do best." He turned to Mordecai. The face he made officially demoted Mordecai to dog crap. "You, my friend, need psychological help. And **fast**. Let's get outta here, Carl!"

The officers were gone and what more could Mordecai say? The law had spoken.

"Mr. Maellard, I am so sorry I even doubted you for a second." Benson said when the cop car disappeared. " I should have known Mordecai was just causing trouble. You should see what him and Rigby did to the kitchen."

"You should be sorry." Mr. Maellard was very satisfied with himself.

"All is forgiven Mr. Benson. But what worries me now is Mordecai's compensation. How do you think it should be handled Mr. Maellard sir?" Jerry scratched his head.

"Well…" Mr. Maellard loomed over Mordecai. He clicked his tongue a few times. "I certainly want to inflict the most damage to his already bruised pride in a single blow."

Jerry's smile literally reached his ears. "In that case, may I suggest a vacation time termination? With some pay check reduction, perhaps?"

"With unpaid labor? Oh please, please, please tell me unpaid labor is included!" Mr. Maellard clasped his hands.

"Of course!"

Jerry and Mr. Maellard gleefully shook hands and chattered away the details of Mordecai's humiliating act of forced contrition. Legal jargon weaved in and out of the conversation and they never once allowed Mordecai to say anything or defend himself. Benson crossed his arms and approached Mordecai.

"I really hope this little prank was worth it." Benson spoke through clenched teeth.

"What is wrong with you?"

He really hoped Benson felt the confusion and fury in his voice. The words resonated through Benson's mind. They swam around for a bit, hitting his brain's core and soon enough Benson heard a snapping noise. He appeared to have forgotten where he was.

"What?"

Through all the negotiations and excitement and accusations, nobody noticed Rigby had returned ten minutes earlier. Rigby eventually made his way to the dead homeless man.

He stood over the corpse and took in his pained expression. His dirty, bloodstained clothes, his discombobulated body; he stared at his face for a moment. A disgusted yet slightly amused expression formed on his own face.

"_Gross_,somebody forgot to clean up this dead hobo!"


	6. Chapter 6

Mordecai's body didn't even hurt anymore, he was more sore than in pain, but the headache he had was worse.

It felt as if a tiny person was trying to axe their way out of his skull. He slumped in the sofa facing the TV, but rolled his head back and had his eyes closed. It hurt to look at things, and his vision was blurry. He was sensitive to light. Every sound, no matter how soft, made him want to wrap his beak around a shotgun and hope for the worst.

Meanwhile Rigby was in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess the two had previously left. Rigby really wasn't doing anything of course. He merely pushed a sponge back and forth on the linoleum as he bellyached to anyone who entered the kitchen. It should be noted that the sponge was dry, no soap was used and Rigby would occasionally smoosh crap underneath the table. The pots and pans were already put back and the majority of the mess was already cleaned up, the reason for that being Rigby couldn't reach most of it and asked Skips for help. (Skips, of course, said yes.)

"This is boring!"

Rigby yelled through the kitchen door, making sure Mordecai heard him complain. Mordecai would have glared at his friend if it wasn't for, y'know; the mild stroke he was having.

"Just clean up the kitchen and leave, please… Your voice is giving me tumors."

Rigby came into the living room with droopy eyes and knuckles dragging on the carpet. He moaned all his way to the sofa and threw himself upon it theatrically.

Mordecai had always been annoyed/amazed at how much of a drama queen Rigby could be.

"This was not how I wanted to spend my last day. I wanted to do something fun! Like seeing how many Twinkies I could eat or making fun of the weird people that go in the mall at night."

"I think I beat you in crappy ways to spend free time." Mordecai somewhat snapped at Rigby and soon the smaller man felt a gigantic wave of shame.

"I'm sorry man."

Mordecai shook his head, and softened his voice.

"I was really looking forward to leaving. Not working on Mondays, no time limits on internet usage, those classes you were blabbering about."

"Oh… I… Have to tell you about that…"

Mordecai opened his eyes slightly.

"What? You not doing that anymore?"

"No, no. I'm still going." Rigby sat up and his back was facing Mordecai.

"Then what, dude?"

"I sorta kinda couldn't get you in."

Rigby braced himself for a hailstorm of punches and kicks. It never came, much to Rigby's relief and he unstressed. Rigby slowly turned around and saw Mordecai inhaled. Then he exhaled. Mordecai decided that, no, he wasn't angry.

Mordecai wasn't even annoyed. It made no sense at the time to lash out at Rigby because he wasn't included in a missed opportunity that he wasn't even allowed to take part in anyway.

Plus, it was probably gonna suck.

"Hmm."

"I swear I tried to persuade them otherwise but they were so stubborn on the price! They would NOT budge! I'm so sorry, man!"

"Hmm." Mordecai replied softly.

"I really am sorry Mordecai." Rigby shook Mordecai's arm. "Really, really, really sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm gonna give you the Lou Diamond Phillips poster they gave me."

Mordecai didn't want an apology, there was nothing to apologize for, but he didn't turn down the poster. Rigby doing anything for others or giving something of his away was a rarity. A once every few years occurrence.

It was all he do, really.

"Thanks. Now please leave me alone."

Rigby jumped up and down on the sofa. His smile had too much teeth and his arms flailed around.

"But don't worry man. I'm gonna come straight over here to save you from this h-hole whenever I don't have classes. And we'll have some epic bro time!" Rigby donned a devilish grin and his eyes became shifty. "I'll even share some super secret MWAT tips with you."

"MWAT?" Mordecai asked, though he didn't know why. He didn't give a flying crap.

"Magical Weapons and Tactics. Sounds impressive huh? First thing they told me after I signed the contract was that I couldn't tell anyone I was taking the classes. It's _that_ exclusive."

"If it's so exclusive why did they put an ad in the newspaper?" Mordecai asked Rigby. He thought about that for a second. "If it's so secret why are they advertising at **all**?"

"Reverse oncology, man. They tell people how awesome it is so they'll be intimidated and not sign up. Except it lets the occasional dude filter in. If he happens to be extra specialsuperawesome. Like me."

Rigby nudged Mordecai and if it wasn't for his head imploding in slow motion he would have punted him like a football.

"Oh you're special alright."

"I can always take that Lou poster back." Rigby warned and pointed his finger at Mordecai.

"Whatever. Make yourself useful and shut up."

"But-"

"Shut. Shut it."

"I still wanna tell you MWAT secrets! Mordecai! Mordecai! Mordecai?"

Mordecai opened his eyes slowly. He could only see shapes. He reached in front of him to touch the brown rectangle that was talking to him. Mordecai made sure he knew where Rigby's body was positioned and punched him in the stomach with the little strength he had. Rigby spun in four circles then flew off of the sofa, and even though he couldn't see him Mordecai knew by Rigby's miserable whines he had done some damage.

"It's sad that I'm still stronger than you at my weakest."

Mordecai finally relaxed into his spot on the sofa and was half asleep when Rigby replied ages later.

"You… Jerkface…"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Keep the thermostat in here at sixty degrees." Skips ordered. "Not sixty-one degrees, not fifty-nine degrees. Exactly sixty. I can't stress this enough."

Benson scribbled that down on the paper attached to his clipboard. Benson wanted to make sure everything Skips said, all the tips and warnings were remembered. The two men were in the basement, the last stop on Skips' "Don't Burn the House Down" tour.

It was small, moist and reeked of mildew. It was dimly lit and Benson never really knew what they used it for. Everything was stored in the shed out back. And nobody came down there except to check on the thermostat.

"So this controls all of the house?"

"Yeah. So watch it constantly."

Benson had no idea why all of this information was new to him. Nerves, maybe? Taking care of a park with the help of six or so groundskeepers is stressful but doable. Taking care of a park with just him and one of the most lazy, irresponsible employees he had the displeasure of hiring?

The ninth circle of Hell. Basically.

"And is that it? That's everything?"

Skips crossed his arms and let out a breath. He scanned the room and nodded his head satisfied.

"Yeah. That should be it."

Benson stopped writing and tucked his clipboard underneath his arm.

"Thanks again for covering this with me. I never realized how much work it takes to keep this place running smoothly. It's exhausting."

"No prob. Just remember to relay the important stuff to Mordecai." Skips said while he surveyed the basement once more. He made a satisfied noise and stares directly at Benson.

"Yeah I'll be sure to do that," Benson rolled his eyes at Mordecai's name.

Benson smiled at Skips at first, but time passed and Benson looked behind himself to see if something was behind him (there wasn't) or if he had something on his face distracting Skips (there wasn't).

_Is… Is my flap up? No, thank God…_

Skips eyes weren't even looking. They seemed dead almost. It was like Skips was waiting for something to happen and his eyes just happened to rest on Benson. Benson's own eyes darted all around the room until finally he uncomfortably spoke again.

"Anything on your mind?"

Skips blinked a little and his eyes refocused on his boss.

"Nah, just. Zoned out for a sec."

"Ah."

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Quite alright." The tiniest grin formed of Benson's lips. Skips was prone to occasional moments of weirdness. Benson was the only one who really noticed. He didn't mind though.

"So. I'm going to pack my things and you call me if you have any questions of concerns."

"Absolutely! I will. Of course!" Benson replied with more enthusiasm than necessary. "And thank you again. So much."

Skips and Benson made their way up the cement stairs, Skips walked slowly and carefully. The two men emerged into a hallway that led into the living room. Skips broke away and left through the front door while Benson surveyed everyone.

Mordecai seemed to be asleep, legs rested on the coffee table while Pops sat next to him. Pops happily stared at the TV and bounced his knees up and down against the cushion.

Benson got the weirdest juxtaposition of sympathy and resentment towards Mordecai. His opinion on whether the accident happened or not was muddied and it was exhausting to think about it. Still. He didn't think Mordecai was stupid enough to jump in front of a moving car just to get attention. The nagging in Benson's brain confused him. Benson couldn't deny Jerry's words and Mordecai's current state didn't mesh and Benson didn't feel like making sense of it all.

"Rigby! You done in there or what?"

Mordecai moaned at Benson's screaming as Rigby came from the kitchen with a bothered look.

"I'm done! Happy? Or did you need me to bend over backwards for you?"

"No, let's save that for later." Benson said with mock gratitude.

Rigby left them room never once breaking vicious eye contact with Benson. Above them all a door slammed. Mordecai sat up a little. He kept his eyes closed tight.

"Everyone stop… Breathing so loud." Mordecai's head lolled side to side.

"Mordecai, if you want to get rid of you're blues and purples may I suggest you take a gander at this new television program. I just began watching and I must say it's very uplifting!"

Benson turned to see the TV's blank screen.

"Pops… The TV is off."

"Shush! The finale is starting." Pops put a finger to his lips and went back to staring at the TV with severe intensity.

Benson bobs his head and smiles warmly at Pops.

"Pops I think you need to rest. In your room. Now."

"But the finale, Benson! The _finale_!"

Benson sadly smiled.

"Good night Pops."

Pops, defeated, got up from the sofa and inched up to his room. Benson couldn't help but chuckle in a way father might laugh at his young son. Mordecai laid his head back again and the part of Benson that didn't believe Mordecai spoke up.

"Hey." Benson tapped Mordecai's legs until he removed them from the coffee table. "Hey. Don't you get comfortable. Once your headache subsides and you come back from the doctor we're salting the sidewalks later. It's going to snow later in the week."

"Okay." Mordecai droned.

"And don't you dare think about leaving me to do it by myself."

"Fine." Mordecai sharply said. "I got it. You can go now."

Benson made a disdainful face and left the living room, his metallic feet stomping into the ground with every step.

The lights turned off and Mordecai watched the different shapes and colors dance on the inside of his eyelids.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Muscle Man and High Five ghost were the first to go, thank God.

Benson felt the ground quiver underneath his feet as Pops squealed, excited at whatever was happening. Muscle Man screamed at the top of his lungs and High Five Ghost 'woo-hooed' approvingly as the ground's rumbling got rougher.

Benson struggled to stand upright as he wobbled around the living room. He crashed into the TV and held on to it but that didn't help as the TV began to shake as well. Pops shrilly giggled and let the quakes toss him around the room like a rag doll.

"Ha, ha, ha! I can't stand up straight! Good show! Jolly good show!"

Muscle Man looked at the window and saw a gigantic tour bus advancing towards the house.

"They're here dudes!" Muscle Man grabbed up four bags and ran out the front door as High Five Ghost followed in tow.

The quakes were nothing compared to the noise. The Fist Pump tour bus arrived right in front of the house with speakers a-booming. The earth quaking stopped, but the music was _so loud_. Benson stuck his fingers in his ears, made his way to the window with jelly legs and saw five dudes on top of the bus; hamming it up. One of the band members was having a spazz attack it seemed. No… No, turned out he was just doing air guitar. Actually… All of them were pretending to play instruments.

_Uh. Rock Gods forgive them. For they know not that they _**suck**_. _

If one observed the bus, they would have noticed it was all black with red tires. It was in pretty decent shape, surprisingly. The driver was head banging along with the beat and was wearing a boat captain hat, for some reason. The middle-aged singer had a ripped up t-shirt and his hair hung all the way down to his back though the top of his head was balding. Muscle Man ran up to the vehicle and mimicked the lead singer's finger movements.

"Muscle Man and High Five Ghost!" The lead called into a microphone that magically appeared in his hand. "Are you two lucky bastards ready to rock?"

"Yeah!" They answered at the same time.

"Are you ready to par-tay?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Are you ready to do some _sick_ fisting?" The singer screamed in to mic, and some random flames shot from the bus into the sky. Benson lost any respect for the band at that point. Everyone knows flame cannons are tacky.

And, c'mon, they _had no freaking instruments_.

At that Muscle Man took off his shirt and spun it above his head as High Five Ghost flew around his friend in a wild frenzy.

"Then get your asses up here!"

Muscle Man threw their bags through a window and propelled himself up and on top the bus to join the band. High Five Ghost simply floated up.

The driver started the bus up and the ground shook as they drove off park property, their overdone theatrics getting less visible little by little until finally they were gone, bus and all.

"Safe travels!" Pops waved goodbye as he jumped up and down.

Benson hoped the bus crashed and he didn't feel the slightest bit guilty.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Mordecai's headache was gone but his vision was still blurry. He laid on his bed in his and Rigby's room, and felt a sense of resignation at his fate.

He figured that "s" happens sometimes and that's when the little things matter.

Rigby was on the end of his bed putting the Lou Diamond Phillips poster up on Mordecai's side. He put the last piece of tape on the poster and rubbed his hands together.

"There! Even when I'm not here, I will be. Though instead of me it will be the greatest Philipino actor alive. But we're basically the same person anyway." Rigby hopped off Mordecai's bed and beamed at his friend.

"You're just bubble gum and rainbows aren't you?"

Rigby's tale waggled crazily. "Next couple times you'll see me, I'm gonna know how to use my specter pistol like a pro!"

Rigby dug in his black trash bag and brandished a sliver handgun that appeared to be very tiny and very underwhelming.

"Careful with that thing, gunslinger." Mordecai said. His voice was so tired the sarcasm didn't really follow.

Meanwhile downstairs, Benson was recovering with ringing ears when he saw a familiar red sports car drive up. Benson had to do a double take. Then he smiled.

"Rigby! Don's here!"

Mordecai sat up. He leaned on his elbow and stared at Rigby.

Rigby was really captivated by the floorboards.

"You're staying with Don? You hate Don." Mordecai chuckled.

"I don't hate Don." Rigby backtracked. "Well not anymore. He's my brother after all."

Mordecai snorted. "That's Rigby speak for 'I needed a place to crash and Don has a cliffside condo.'"

"Stop talking!"

"I'll take that as confirmation."

Rigby put the bag in his mouth and ran downstairs and Mordecai eventually followed, though he crashed into everything on the way down thanks to his handicapped vision.

Don was already hugging the mess out of everyone in his reach. Pops was just beside himself with joy. Benson was just happy to see the younger yet taller raccoon man. Don was curious to were Skips was and seemed a little down when Benson told him Skips was packing up to leave, and he debated out loud whether or not to go to his house and "Get some sugar from the big guy!" when Rigby appeared at the bottom of the stairs with Mordecai.

Don lit up like Hanukkah at the sight of his big brother.

"Rigbone! How is my big bro?"

Rigby mumbled. "Goodfinewhatever."

"Me too! I can't wait until we spend quality time together. I hope you got _plenty _of sugar packed away!" Don nudged Rigby.

Rigby smiled quick then dropped it when Don stopped looking at him. Don yelled, excited and held his arms wide for Mordecai.

"Well if it isn't Mordo! Come over here and give me a cavity!"

"Sure dude!"

Mordecai went in the direction of Don's voice and ended up leaning too far forward and he fell a foot in front of Don.

"I see your depth perception hasn't gotten any better." Benson deadpanned.

Don picked Mordecai up and brushed him off. He then pulled Mordecai in for a bone-crushing embrace.

"Don't be a stranger now Mordo. You can come over anytime you want." Don eyed Benson teasingly. "Or whenever Benson let's you out."

"You." Benson waved off Don, chuckling softly.

Mordecai always had a soft spot for Rigby's younger brother. He was everything Rigby wasn't. Considerate, responsible, easy to talk to… Tall. He spent a lot of time over Rigby's house when they were kids. He'd have the intention of hanging with Rigby but almost always ended up with Don. Not that he liked Don more than Rigby; Rigby was his best friend. But Don was so damn… Pleasant. Mordecai felt himself melt into Don, and Mordecai wondered how he was the way he was with little to no effort.

"Blah blah blah playful banter. Can we go already?" Rigby huffed.

Rigby scurried to the front door and tapped his foot. Don carried Rigby's bag for him and gave everyone goodbye hugs.

"Cool your jets, bro! Don't you want to say goodbye to everyone?"

Rigby limply waved his paw at the group. "Bye. Let's _go_."

Don turned and announced to the room. "I'd be happy to see any and all of you at my home, anytime!"

Mumblings of agreeance and happy chatter came from Pops, Benson and Mordecai and their words bumped and strangled each other so no one was heard clearly. Rigby let Don leave first then rushed out like the place was on fire.

The red sports car revved up and Don waved to the three men inside the house. Rigby sat in the passenger's seat and was messing with the glove comparment absentmindedly. Benson and Pops gleefully yelled their goodbyes from the open window.

"See you later Don!" Mordecai shouted in the direction of the coat hanger.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Mordecai was watching the season premiere of Mean British Chef when Skips was preparing to leave.

He was wearing a tacky Hawaiian shirt.

Mordecai could make out the shape of it and the ugly, vibrant colors.

"That's unlike you." Mordecai said once he continued to gawk at the TV screen.

Skips looked down at himself.

"I'm goin' on a spiritual retreat. It'll will teach me to avoid distractions when chantin'."

"Alright." Mordecai nodded.

"Just thought I'd clear that up."

"No need to explain yourself to me."

"_No! No! No! I said shrimp __**scampi**__ you disgusting pig!" _The British chef throws the dish on the floor as aspiring cook began to cry.

Skips looked at Mordecai, then the TV. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Can you even _see_ what's going on?"

"No, but I can hear everything." Mordecai stared at the screen with unfocused eyes.

"_Stop crying and clean this garbage up you __**idiot!" **_The cook cried and cried with his head in his hands. The British Chef's face got beet red.

Benson had gone to drop Pops off with his father (Benson looked as if he was going to drive to his execution.) and Mordecai had gone back upstairs to take a quick nap. He went to sleep at four and woke up at ten thirty.

The nap was not quick.

He went downstairs and saw the tiny yellow glow of the wall lamp next to the front door. No one was around. The house creaked and croaked, but other than that, it was quiet and calm. Mordecai assumed that was how it was going to be for the next month.

Him all alone. In a dark, too big and too empty two story house. With Benson and a Lou Diamond Philips poster.

Skips shook his head disapprovingly at the show yet he continued to watch as he stood up.

"You should sit down and watch." Mordecai patted air at first, but then found the cushion and offered it to Skips. Skips shook his head no, then realized Mordecai couldn't see him.

"No… Not a fan of reality TV."

"Neither am I really." Mordecai admitted. "I just really enjoy watching people belittled on national television."

"_It's like I try and try and try and NOTHING is good enough for him!" _A blonde cook hysterically yelled into the camera as she filmed her confessional_. "__**NOTHING!**__" _

"Don't let them break you, Nancy!" Mordecai shouted at the TV, laughing.

Skips blinked. He opened his mouth again to say something but stopped himself. He stared dazedly like earlier down in the basement with Benson. He broke out of his thoughts and spoke slowly with Mordecai.

"Mordecai try not to… Do anythin' while you're here with Benson." Skips said, feeling the noise or sense or whatever the hell it was get the tiniest bit stronger.

Mordecai frowned. "What's that supposed to mean, dude?"

"I mean…" And, yeah, Skips did sound accusatory. He decided to change his phrasing. "Odd things tend to happen around here, you're aware."

"Too well, dude."

"Yeah. And Benson's stressed already and you don't wanna be here in the first place. It would be easy to let responsibilities slip. Let yourself ignore certain things."

Mordecai was a little offended. Was Skips saying he was going to be a nuisance to Benson? That Mordecai was a burden?

"Benson has a habit of going off the deep end as well." Mordecai said. He tried not to snip at Skips, but if he did then. So be it. "He can be just as thoughtless."

"No, well, yes. Yes he does." Skips shook his head. It was coming out all wrong. He was trying… Nevermind. No need to panic about something that may not be something at all. He chose to address the last thing on his list of concerns. "Which even more incentive to try and… Be neutral. Y'know. Don't rile him up. Don't egg him on. You know what his buttons are. And avoid any weirdness."

"_I'm supposed to pick a winner out of you three, but all of your dishes look disgraceful. Tom! Lemon Raspberry cheesecake is not supposed to look like menstruation. Terrible. Keith! Your pot pie tastes like a bowl of hot diarrhea. Nancy. Just… You sicken me Nancy. __**You sicken me**__!" _

The British Chef dramatically trashed Nancy's dish. The music got scary and made that "Dun, dun, dun!" sound effect.

"Okay… I'll do that. Sure."

Skips accepted that. Benson would call if anything happened. No need to worry. No need to worry at all.

"Mhmm."

As Nancy busted into tears once more, Mordecai wondered why she just didn't get eliminated already.

Skips hoped the mountain retreat he was going to stay at didn't have TV, and that Mordecai really took his words seriously, and that the odd feeling or sound wouldn't distract him from enjoying his time off. He reached behind in front of himself and ripped a hole in reality. Thank goodness Mordecai was blind as a bat. Skips slipped into the opening and the hole closed up after he left.

Mordecai didn't hear Skips anymore and assumed he left already. He put his feet up on the coffee table and put his hands behind his head. Even if his vacation was gone and his best friend was out probably having a mildly-great time without him, there was TV.

In a shocking twist, Keith was eliminated from the show. Mordecai listened to the British Chef scream about the Diarrhea pot pie when Benson station wagon drove up to the house. Mordecai heard it in the way Benson parked that he was annoyed. His car door slammed and Benson's gumballs shook in his glass head as he slammed the front door. Benson took off his scarf hastily and didn't even bother with his boots.

"Skips left?" Benson asked as Mordecai heard his voice get closer.

"Yep."

Benson nodded and looked around the room. Then eventually Mordecai. His eyes were cloudy and didn't really watch the TV. They were just staring. Benson remembered how angry he was and the way he vehemently defended himself. Then the contradicting voices in his head, (one his, the other foreign) began to loudly whisper.

_He's either telling the truth about everything… Or he's the greatest bullshitter I've ever seen. _

_But what Jerry said made perfect sense. Jerry made perfect sense. _

Benson felt himself get sleepy, and thought it unwise to drive home while drowsy, so he decided to sleep in the guest room for the night.

"After you come back from the doctor-"

"Eye doctor."

"_Whatever_. When you come back we're buying the salt and putting it down. So don't wander off."

_And you need me next to you to buy salt _**because**_? _

Mordecai sucked on his teeth and stopped himself from saying something that would get him a bitching.

"Sure."

Benson ignored the edge to Mordecai's tone and made his way up the stairs. Each step squeaked under his weight. Benson was at the top when he paused, hurried back down and pointed at Mordecai.

"Keep your filthy feet **off** the coffee table."

Mordecai sheepishly lowered his feet.

"_I haven't been here long, but this place is what I imagined Hell to be like." _Tom stared right into his confessional camera. He struggled to keep his voice from cracking and he looked fidgety.

"_Exactly what I imagined."_


	7. Chapter 7

Two days later, Thursday, Mordecai and Benson wandered around the local MegaMart and searched the for snow salt.

Mordecai had his blue wintercoat and Benson dawned his yellow coat and black scarf with some boots (that looked too big for him) because lo and behold, it did snow later in the week. It was a day earlier than Benson expected. Benson hated when he wasn't prepared and he voiced it loudly to Mordecai, unfortunately. He mumbled and grumbled all the way to the store and all Mordecai could think about was how Benson complained about the smallest things. All the time.

They got there relatively quick, considering everyone and their _freakin'_ grandma decided that then of all times was a nice day for a drive. The two of them went to the aisle labeled **"Weather Prep" **and came up empty handed. Benson huffed, rolled his eyes and suggested they go in the gardening section next, not really sure it would be there but it wouldn't hurt to just to look.

Mordecai wore his new black-rimmed glasses that he now needed. He originally went to the eye doctor who, after hearing why Mordecai was there in the first place, sent him to a neurologist who did an MRI on him and concluded his brain was fine, a little stress on the right side but nothing serious. He did notice Mordecai bumped into the door while trying to leave and sent him back to said eye doctor that diagnosed him.

"_Spontaneous Astigmatism." The doctor said. He wrote it down in Mordecai's file. "Caused by the upper right part of your brain getting a little rattled. Anytime a part of the brain is disturbed or put under a particularly harsh physical trial the nerves corresponding to that portion react funny. Just be lucky the upper left part of your brain wasn't irritated." _

"_What part does that control?" Margret asked. (Margret drove Mordecai there and accompanied him inside. It just so happened she was dating the eye doctor this week.) _

"_The bladder." The doctor, or rather Steve, he wanted Mordecai to call him Steve, said._

_**Psh. Neither me or Margaret is gonna remember his stupid name. **_

_**''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''**_

Mordecai pushed his glasses up his top beak when they started slipping and Benson kept making annoyed sounds. Mordecai ignored it once or twice but it started to annoy the crap out of him.

"Dude what?"

Benson seemed taken aback, but recovered and replied with a nasty "What do you mean 'what?'"

"You keep making those noises. You sound like you're constipated."

"I'm not making any noises. And I'm **not** constipated."

"Okay, whatever." Mordecai frowned.

_This_ was starting already? The first official day and it's starting? Mordecai couldn't believe it.

Benson rolled his eyes and stood akimbo. No salt in sight. Mordecai did feel bad that he wasn't really looking. He lagged behind Benson, going through the shelves mindlessly..

Benson took immediate notice.

"If you're going to fake help couldn't you at _least_ do it better?" he complained.

"I'm helping! I'm looking through everything, checking all the bags. Ah see! Found some salt!" Mordecai held up a white and blue bag and smiled victoriously.

"Are you even reading the labels? That's a bag of dog food!"

Mordecai studied the bag he held and- well damn. It _was_ a bag of dog food. "**Pup and Circumstance**", to be exact.

"That's weird. Somebody left this dog food in the gardening section. Huh."

"I think we should separate." Benson said dryly. He was already walking away from Mordecai. "If you decide to help me look, you can find me in the on the other side."

Mordecai yelled after him, "So I don't have to help then?"

Benson didn't respond. He acted as if he hadn't heard him. Mordecai saw his boss disappear behind a stack of manure and decided that was the time to check out the new shipment of technology and gadgets.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"_So that should be it." Steve smiled and took off his blue rubber gloves with a snap. "If anything feels weird or out of place you just come on down and I'll take care of you friend." _

_Mordecai stifled a laugh. "Sure thing." _

_Steve nodded at Mordecai and got up to throw his gloves away. He opened the door and grinned at Margaret. _

"_See you later Maggie?" _

"_Of course!" _

_Steve closed the door softly. Mordecai started laughing and laughing as Margret sat puzzled at his behavior. Mordecai stopped himself and breathed in a little. _

"'_Friend'? I see you're dating Mr. Rodgers." _

"_Shut up!" Margret hit Mordecai playfully on the arm and soon enough she was laughing too. _

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Benson got lost in the baby depot after he roamed around pointlessly for about ten minutes. Mordecai was probably off watching the plasma screen TVs so he saw no reason to look for the damn salt either. Pink and blue bunnies sang a sweet song of happiness and teamwork in the most disgustingly saccharine tune and Benson needed to get the hell out of there. Then he saw a familiar face.

The spunky, red head EMT was studying some formula about five feet away from him.

"Ma'am?" Benson approached her slowly not wanting to scare her off.

She furrowed her eyebrows for a millisecond but instantaneously became smiles and giggles once she got a better look of Benson.

"Why if it isn't the gumball machine man from the city park! How are you, dearest?"

"I'm God. No! I mean, _good_. Good. I'm not _God_, nobody's God except God, Y'know?"

Benson remembered why he never went out and socialized much.

The redhead smirked at Benson's ramblings. "And your name again, sir?"

"Benson. Just Benson. And your name, Miss?"

"Oh! Lorelei Townsend." She smiled and shook Benson skinny hand. They must have been still cold, Benson judged from Lorelei's small grimace.

She had orangey red hair that curled and twisted to her shoulders. It was in a bun when Benson last saw her. She was wearing a black shoulder less dress with a beautiful choker with some sort of gem encrusted in them.

"Aren't you a little overdressed for a trip to the MegaMart, Ms. Townsend?" Benson joked.

Lorelei looked down at herself and smiled embarrassed. "I'd forgotten I was wearing this… I came from a party when my sister asked my to pick up some formula. New nephew."

"Congrats."

Amazing how she had such gorgeous clothes and jewelry on a health worker's salary.

Lorelei's face suddenly became worrisome. "Benson, I was wondering how your bird friend was doing? I wanted to go to the park and ask but I didn't want to be intrusive…" Lorelei trailed off.

"No, that's sweet of you. Really. Uh, he's better. Went to the doctor today and just some mild brain distress."

Lorelei's expression got even more worried. "Brain distress?"

"Well yeah. When the car hit him he landed on his head pretty hard."

"But he didn't get hit by that car." Lorelei said with her head titled and a nervous smile forming. "At least not on purpose anyway."

Benson thought about what she said, and was about to correct himself, but stopped..

"I mean." Benson shrugged. "As annoying and irresponsible as he, Mordecai, is… He wouldn't do that. I don't think."

Lorelei stared blankly at Benson for ages. Her eyes were wide and glossy. Benson was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice.

"Mordecai wouldn't do that. And since when do I take Mr. Maellard's side in anything?" Benson sounded disgusted with himself.

Lorelei broke her little trance but continued to stare at Benson. She looked like she didn't know where she was.

"What?"

Benson shook his head and smiled at Lorelei. "Nothing, Ms. Townsend. It was nice talking to you."

Lorelei waved at Benson. It appeared, to Benson at least, like a huge load was taken off of her.

"Sure! Nice talking to you Benson!"

Benson turned on his heel and walked past Lorelei.

He went right back to drifting about.

Meanwhile, Mordecai sat on the prop couch in front of the plasma TV display. Mean British Chef was about thirty minutes in (though it was the premiere again) and guess who was the blonde butt monkey?

"Oh Nancy. You can never win, can you?" Mordecai shook his head and actually felt bad for old Nancy.

Nancy was crying in the bathroom when it cut to commercial.

"_Hello. Are you incredibly wealthy? Are you having legal troubles? Suing somebody? Getting sued yourself? Forgot to mind those annoying child labor laws again? Then you're watching the right commercial!_"

Mordecai's blood boiled.

"_I'm Jerry McGuire." _

A huge red disclaimer flashed on the screen and an announcer read it lightening fast. _"Jerry McGuire does not have nor has he ever had any association with the classic 90's film 'Jerry McGuire', the said film and lawyer Jerry McGuire have absolutely nothing to do with each other and any connections between the man and movie are completely coincidental." _

"_And I want to help you stay rich. Or get richer. Whatever gets me paid more." _

"_Jerry's Law!" A happy chorus of sopranos chimed. "Screw-in' over poor people since two-thousand three!" _

Mordecai shot up from the prop couch and kicked the plasma in a blind rage.

Once his mind cleared and he realized what he had done, it was too late.

The TV fell down with a deafening "boom!". Mordecai just stood there with his mouth open.

"Crap. I shouldn't have done that…"

Mordecai scanned around to see everyone in the area staring at him. Amongst the on lookers was a store manager.

An incredibly angry store manager.

"Sir. I think you're gonna have to pay for that."

"Uh…" said Mordecai stupidly for a moment.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

_"Seriously Margaret. Why are you with this guy? He's so... Dad-ish. He's wearing a sweater vest for Christ's sake!" _

_"He's not that bad... Yes he is..." Margaret laughed harder. "But! But! You would have not liked Steve anyway." _

_Mordecai lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah. Cause he's a dork." _

_"Oh~ I detect some jealousy." _

_"Maybe you do." _

_They were silent for a moment, Margaret stopped laughing as hard and damn, Mordecai pushed a little too far this time. Margaret brought it down again. _

_"All of my boyfriends are dorks." she giggled softly._

_"Whatever... I'm just saying you could do much better." _

_Mordecai calmed himself down and didn't say anything until they were cleared to go. _

_''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''_

The MegaMart security called for Benson on the loudspeaker immediately after the fact.

_**"Could a Mr. Benson please come down here and collect his employee? A Mr. Benson?"**_

_**"I have a name!"**_ Mordecai yelled in the background.

Benson sighed.

Benson came into the little office saw Mordecai sitting across an from a pudgy guard. Between them was a few doughnuts and cards. Mordecai was handcuffed to his chair by one hand and held his card with the free one. Benson eyed the handcuffs and groaned.

"Oh don't worry. That's just regulation. Mordecai here has been pretty tame."

Benson closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What did you _do_?"

"Well… This guy is so good at slapjack it should be illegal!" the guard said chuckling.

"I swear I'm not cheating!" Mordecai laughed as well. "Maybe I'm just better than you, Stuart."

Benson crossed his arms. "You got picked up by security… Because you're good at cards?"

The guard laughed. "Oh no, he destroyed a plasma TV."

"What?"

"Yeah." Mordecai admitted, chuckling under his breath. "I broke a TV."

"Haven't we all though?" The guard shook his head and stared off nostagically.

"Wha- What… _Why_?"

"A moment of insanity. I swear. It was like I blacked out!"

Benson pretty much started the countdown until explosion from there.

"I understand. I'm the same way when Mean British Chef comes on." The guard commented.

_Ten_.

"Holy crap… You watch that show too?"

"Anytime I can!"

"What do you think of Nancy?"

"Oh. My heart _bleeds_ for Nancy. She can never win!"

"I know, right?"

_Nine_.

"But what about Keith? Poor guy. He planned that pot pie for weeks!"

"I gotta go with the British Chef one this one." Mordecai shrugged.

"What? That pot pie looked pretty good."

"Pft. Give me a bran muffin and a couple of minutes. I could make a dish one hundred times more appealing. And with less carbs!"

_Eight. _

"Fine. Let's agree to disagree but you have to admit British Chef is pretty harsh."

"Oh no. Those people knew **exactly** what they were signing up for. The show's callled Mean British Chef not Super Nice Dude That Cooks! I don't feel a shred of sympathy for those wannabes. Except Nancy of course."

"Poor, poor Nancy."

_SevenSixFiveFourThreeTwoOne_.

"Can we just pay for the friggin' TV and go, **PLEASE?" **

Benson had his famous red tint and stood in front of Mordecai and the guard breathing in and out harshly.

"Sure, sure." The guard got up and unlocked Mordecai's handcuffed hand. "Hope you had a lovely shopping experience at MegaMart."

"Thanks." Of course Benson said it in a way that made everyone else hear 'Screw you.'

Benson walked out and Mordecai sheepishly followed, waving a quick goodbye to the guard.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It was silent when they walked passed the MegaMart automatic doors.

If one more person told him to have a "Mega nice day!" Benson was going to shoot someone.

Benson was too angry to speak. If that was how the next six weeks were going to go, he had to take immediate action.

He had to lay down some rules.

Mordecai thought it dangerous to talk and upset Benson anymore than neccesarry. He was just happy the employees handed out free hard candy as they left . Mordecai _loved_ hard candy. He knew how childish that sounded.

They stepped outside and Benson looked for his keys. He realized his coat had too many pockets. Why were there so many pockets? He didn't **need** this right now.

"This entire experience was… Ridiculous." Benson seethed, breaking the silence. "I would expect this sort of thing from that Rigby or Muscle Man even… Just ridiculous! What the hell were you thinking? I hope you didn't intend on _eating_ for the next couple of weeks; that plasma TV you destroyed in your 'temporary insanity' set us back... Eh. Unbelievable."

Mordecai still said nothing, but brightened up when he looked out of the corner of his eye. Hopefully this would make Benson a little happier.

"Benson, look!" Mordecai held up two huge green bags. "I found the snow salt!"


	8. Chapter 8

Mordecai was pretty sure that everything, all of it, from start to finish, started with that damn list Benson made.

It was the thirtieth of December and Mordecai laid on his bed, thinking up new ways to avoid Benson. As it turned out, there wasn't much to do at the park when it was closed. People didn't come so there wasn't any litter to pick up. All the animals had gone south or were hibernating, so no assorted poop to clean up. No Rigby, so no crazy monster attacks to ward off.

A pretty boring couple of days.

With the chores all done and with nothing to do, Mordecai was limited to watching trashy reality television, going over to Don's and visiting Rigby (who never was home. EVER.) and hanging out with Margaret. Though Margaret did not-so-subtly hint that he was infringing on her time with Harry (Or was it Rick? Eh. Didn't matter).

But when Mordecai literally had _nothing_ to do, he was stuck at the house. With Benson.

Which was why he was in his and Rigby's room. Lying on his back, black rimmed glasses on the nightstand and occasionally looking over at Lou Diamond Phillips with his colt .45 in hand.

_Nobody ever ran you over and blamed you for it. I'm pretty sure they would've had a horrible case of "Bullet in Face Syndrome."_

"Mordecai could you come down here, please?"

Benson's voice was faint and Mordecai could barely hear it. Mordecai started to get up for a second, but then questioned whether or not he felt like doing some pointless chore Benson pulled from the air. He laid back down and pretended not to hear him.

"Mordecai come down here!"

Benson was louder and sounded slightly irritated. He didn't like to repeat himself, Mordecai noticed. Maybe he assumed Mordecai really didn't hear him, which explained why he was only irritated rather than full on pissed off.

Mordecai hesitated. And still didn't get up. To be honest, he was dead tired for one reason or another and he didn't have the energy. He was being an asshole, he acknowledged that, but. He was not going back into that greenhouse again. **Christ** no.

"Mordecai get down here **now**!"

Mordecai yawned and rolled on his side. After about, say, two minutes he heard Benson's gumballs clack against his glass head and his metal feet stomp up the stairs.

Benson opened the door and stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips. Pissed off.

Memories of his own mother went through Mordecai's mind. She'd stand the same way in his doorway whenever he wouldn't wake up and get ready for school. Mordecai couldn't help but to snicker at the comparison he made in his mind.

"Oh. Hey Benson. I was just wakin-"

"I don't even wanna waste my breathe telling you to shut the _hell _up and save it."

Mordecai turned to lie on his back. "You just did."

"Shut up." Benson spat.

Mordecai sighed loudly and made a disparaging face. Benson pretended not to notice, for Mordecai's sake.

"What can I do you for, Benson?" Mordecai sighed to the ceiling.

"I wanted to give you this."

Benson threw a piece of paper and it landed on Mordecai's stomach. Mordecai picked it up and read whilst lying down. He rolled his eyes.

"What is this?" Mordecai groaned. He knew very well what it was.

"Rules for the house. More like guidelines. "

"_Right_."

"If we know what's appropriate and inappropriate, we'll act more civil towards each other."

"_Sure_."

"Did you want to say something?"

Mordecai finally sat up. He furrowed his eyebrows and wore a tight frown. Benson crossed his arms and goaded Mordecai with a head tilt.

"I just think… I know, that these rules are unnecessary."

"Says the man who destroyed a plasma TV in a hissy fit." Benson scoffed.

"And other than that, what have I done?" Mordecai said, challenging Benson. "I mean, ever since everyone left, I've completed any and all chores you asked me to do. No matter how pointless, or boring or stupid… I even watered those **asshole** plants in the greenhouse! You _know_ I hate doing that."

"Yes… The talking fichus trees are horrible, I appreciated that... But you mention everything else like they were _freaking_ miracles. It's your job to do those things. Whatever chore I tell you to do, you do. What, do you want a medal or something?"

It was the mocking little laugh that pushed Mordecai.

"Yes. Yes actually. I would love a medal. I deserve that medal. That's so sweet of you." Mordecai's voice became rushed and bitter. "When I get it could you inscribe it "Dealing With Benson's Bitch Outs Since Two Thousand Eight"? Thanks a bunch, really, thanks a _lot_."

Benson's fists shook.

"You create this… **Bullshit** list of rules and say they're for the house, but we both know I'm the only one that's going to be following them."

"Well. _Yeah. _That's sorta how employer/employee interaction works. I make the rules, you follow said rules so I don't have spend money on broken technology I can't **afford**."

Benson got closer to Mordecai. The red color crept onto his face.

"And honestly? If it were 'House Rules', for everyone in the house, shouldn't I have _contributed_? So we could negotiate _together_? Rather than you just numbering down everything about me you find annoying then shoving it in my face?"

Benson clenched his teeth. Mordecai could see the flames behind his eyes.

"_Listen_. I'm gonna be frank with you." Benson went to the end of Mordecai's bed and gently sat down.

He got real quiet and it reminded Mordecai of the way his teacher would talk to him and Rigby when they did something and tried to hide it. Benson was just… such an adult.

"I don't like you, Mordecai. You _irk_ my soul. I would rather jump into a boiling river of snot than be here. I would rather eat a toenail sandwich, than be here. With you. But I'm not. And as much as you hate this, trust me when I say I hate it much **MUCH** more. Here's what I'm proposing. You follow the _goddamn _rules! You _don't_ give me anymore whiny commentary about this list! And finally, I swear to God the next time I call you and you intentionally don't come, I'm going to _**end you**_!"

Mordecai's mind sputtered for a response but he got nothing. Benson smiled, it was sharp.

"So hopefully the list is helpful!" Benson bounced from Mordecai's bed and left the room, but lingered in the doorway. "And could you go into the greenhouse? The other plants were yelling that you forgot to trim the rose bush. Thanks a bunch, really, thanks a _lot_."

Benson slammed the door on his way out.

Mordecai would have done anything for Lou's .45 right at that moment.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Mordecai had left the house in such a huff, he didn't remember that snow was on the ground.

It was beautiful and white blah blah, but snow is also cold as shit, and when you don't wear shoes or a coat you become very aware of that.

And considering Don's condo was at the other side of the friggin' city, you learn to hate snow. A lot.

Mordecai had his shoulders to his neck in a sad attempt to… Mordecai didn't know what that was supposed to do. He did that whenever he was really cold. Mordecai knocked twice and Don opened the door on the beginning of the third.

"Mordo!" Don said with a huge grin, which suddenly became a frown. "You're not wearing anything in _this_

weather? Come on in! Hurry!"

"H-hey Don." Mordecai just realized he was shivering.

Don ushered Mordecai inside and the warmth that surrounded him felt better than anything at that particular moment. Don gripped up Mordecai in a breathe stealing hug and Mordecai melted. In the manliest way possible. Don pulled back and smiled.

"Sorry about stealing some sugar. Normally I'd ask but I just enjoy company! Yours especially!"

_I am… He's… You need to stop. _

Mordecai laughed uneasily and separated from Don.

"Well I like hanging out with you too but I was wondering if Rigby…?"

"Oh no. Rigby's not here. But he should be back soon. Want to wait here until then?"

"Sure. I don't feel like trudging through that snow again." Mordecai laughed at himself.

Don went into the kitchen as Mordecai sat down on Don's artsy looking couch. If there was a word that would describe Don, it would be 'yuppie'. Well, no, a word that would accurately describe Don would be "perfect", but his interior home décor screamed **American Psycho**… Minus the 'psycho' part.

Obviously.

Mordecai rubbed his hands together, observed the world outside and was horrified to see it was snowing pretty heavily.

"Looks like you made it _just_ in time." said Don with two mugs of hot chocolate.

Mordecai jumped a bit, (Don was so quiet when he entered the room,) but smiled and accepted the mug when he was handed one.

Don sat in a weird, unknown geometric shaped recliner opposite the couch.

"Yeah… I guess I did. Thanks for the cocoa."

"No problem!" Don waved Mordecai off with a smile. "So what's going on with you?"

"I'm running away from Benson."

The sentence replayed in Mordecai's mind and he berated himself, because… Yeah. He was running away from Benson.

"Ah! Ben grinding your gears already?"

"_Already?" _

Don laughed. "Yeah, bosses aren't fun. But Ben seems like a reasonable guy. You guys can come to a compromise."

"Benson? Reasonable? Are we talking about the same person? The gumball machine?"

"Benson didn't strike me as that bad, actually." Don tilted his head.

Mordecai snorted a little. "That's because you've only seen the happy, "Smile for the Cameras" Benson. In reality he's belligerent and naggy and uptight and just… _Benson_."

"Ah well. You'd know him better than I would… Mordecai?"

Mordecai gave all his attention to Don. The mug radiated in his hands.

"Hmm?"

"How exactly did you get stuck with Benson in the first place, again?"

Don's concern warmed Mordecai up more than the cocoa.

"Uh, Mr. Maellard ran me over and his asshole lawyer convinced the police I was making the whole thing up." Mordecai took a sip of his hot chocolate. The burn down his throat felt good. "Excuse my language."

"What!" Don's eyes became huge and wide. "And don't worry about the language."

"Now I'm stuck salting sidewalks, taking care of douchebag plants and getting yelled at on a daily basis because of **Jerry McGuire**!" Mordecai growled.

Don's face grew confused. "How does that movie have anything to do with this?"

"No! Uh, Ha-ha! No, that was Mr. Maellard's lawyer's name."

"Oh!…" Don nodded a couple of times then seemed to get lost in his thoughts. He looked outside the window.

The snow fell quietly. Everything was covered in a white blanket and the sky was the saddest gray. As the flakes swirled and swirled and condensation formed outside of his window, Don could hear a distinct snapping. Don finally came up from his thoughts. He seemed to have forgotten where he was.

"What?"

Mordecai gave Don a weird look. "Don, I didn't say anything."

"I'm sorry…" Don face scrunched up. "I think… I think I know that Jerry fellow."

Mordecai perked up. He had certainly never heard of this dude before the accident, but apparently he's a freaking celebrity. Any rich bastard that got in trouble legally called Jerry McGuire. The numbers of dead, run over hobos must have been staggering in the city, Mordecai lividly thought. But other than that Mordecai didn't know much about Jerry. Anybody who could give him some background on the dickface would be greatly appreciated.

"Really? You sure?"

"Yeah… I mean I'm not sure from where… He had a really nice black suit on? Appeared in a purple fog?"

"It was more of a cloud actually, but yeah!"

"Hmm. I'll have to look him up for you."

"Thanks a million, dude!" Mordecai grinned. "That guy makes my neck itch."

Don grinned back twice as hard until all the grinning started to make Mordecai uncomfortable.

_Too much. __**Too**__ much. Just stop it. _

Don didn't even touch his mug. He just sat away from Mordecai and beamed at him. Like Mordecai was the most special person in the world. Don's eyes shone too bright and his teeth were too white for his own good and Mordecai cursed himself for noticing.

"I really do hope you're alright."

"I am, thank you for wondering."

"And though the circumstances aren't the best, I hope your time with Benson teaches you something."

"It'll teach me how to kill someone and make it look like an accident." said Mordecai, half-joking.

"Hey, hey… If Benson's as frigid as you say, maybe some tenderness will help loosen him up. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar after all."

"You're a saint, Don. You could catch flies with bare hands."

Mordecai smiled again, and damn it all he was trying to stop that.

"Thank you, but try to understand where I'm coming from. We both know Rigby isn't the… Warmest person."

Mordecai laughed and nodded. Don laughed as well.

"But now that he's here with me, we can really get some brotherly bonding in. Reconnect. You should do the same with Benson." Don paused when he saw Mordecai grimace. "Or at least try. Sometimes the universe puts you in situations to make you learn a lesson in life. Sometimes people you avoid are the very thing you need."

Mordecai thought it was sweet really, but exposure to Don over a long period of time felt like watching PBS Kids over and over.

"I think you're being to naïve about this."

Don shrugged. "Maybe I am. Maybe I do have a old fashioned approach to things. Or maybe I'm on to something. "

"You think so?"

"Well… Your method isn't any more effective is it?"

_What method?_

Mordecai was left with nothing to say to the younger man. It sucked when he couldn't think of a witty response in these types of situations.

Don slyly smiled. He went to collect Mordecai's empty mug when the door flew open and revealed a snow covered Rigby. He looked like he was freezing.

And pissed. Definitely more pissed than anything.

"Rigbone! Get outta that snow and gimme some sugar bro!"

Don ran up to Rigby but the shorter man went through his legs, entering the house and hissed at his brother like a cat. Mordecai was instantly amused.

"**You**!" Rigby's eyes narrowed and he pointed at Don like he meant business. "You _ruined my vacation!"_


	9. Chapter 9

"I did what bro?" Don asked.

Rigby shook the snow off and lowered the arm he used to point at Don menacingly. He brandished his teeth and hummed with a low growl.

Margaret always described that as "adowable".

"The one thing I look forward to my entire life and you just… Just… Defile it!"

Don was unmoved by his brother's anger. He simply looked down at Rigby with the deepest admiration Mordecai's seen anyone have for another person. Don did look a little confused after Rigby just started to yell gibberish, but he smiled nonetheless.

"You were looking forward to MWAT classes all you're life? You found out about more than a week ago." chuckled Mordecai.

A brown and black blur materialized by Mordecai's side. Mordecai readjusted his glasses to make sure he wasn't seeing something not there.

"_Mordecai_! It was _horrible_! **Mordecai**!"

Rigby gripped onto one of Mordecai's arms and ouch. His paws dug into him like his life depended on it.

"Dude, dude, stop whining. And stop grabbing my arm so tight."

"Tell us how we can help, Rigbone." Don offered sweetly.

Rigby viciously turned to Don. "Why don't you _**shut**_ up!"

"You know what you need Grumpy Bear? A nice sandwich!" Don trotted off to the kitchen, at which point Mordecai decided Don was too nice for his own good.

_I can't believe there was a time- _

"He ruins EVERYTHING!" Rigby sobbed.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rigby's complaints. Mordecai almost missed Rigby's whining. Next to Benson's tirades they were paradise. He would have preferred to have neither, if he has ever given a choice.

"I'm surprised Don just doesn't get fed up and step on you. Guess he's just patient like that." Mordecai tugged on his arm a little, but Rigby held on fiercely. "Dude I can't help if you don't tell me what happened."

"Okay. Okay." Rigby let go of Mordecai and took a ridiculously long breath. "Today, when I came in for MWAT… There was a new student that became my new partner."

"What? Was he a jerk or something?"

"No. Worse. It was… _Erin_." Rigby made the most disgusted face ever.

Mordecai wanted to laugh in his face.

"Dude who the 'h' is Erin?"

"Erin! You know Erin. Short mole chick that works with Margaret at the Coffee Shop with Margaret? Erin!"

Mordecai stared blankly, but suddenly lit up with recognition.

"Oh you mean Eileen!" Mordecai laughed a little and Rigby's mistake. "Eileen's cool, dude."

"She's horrible!"

"No she isn't… A little dorky perhaps but she's nice."

"Everything was going awesome and then she walked in and spent the entire class staring at me and asking me questions. Ugh! I mean, she wears glasses for heaven's sake. Who wears glasses _anymore_?"

Mordecai coughed abruptly and innocently tapped his own glasses. Rigby didn't notice.

Mordecai gave Rigby a pointed look and when he didn't catch on he asked, "How does Don tie into all this?"

"That Eleanor girl kept talking and talking until finally she told me that she heard I was taking the course from my brother, or should I say **traitor with my face**!"

Don entered with two ham sandwiches. "Eileen did sign up? Awesome! I was at the Coffee Shop the other day and I struck up a conversation. She was considering doing the Magic classes and almost talked herself out, but I convinced her otherwise. Now you have a friend inside big bro!"

Rigby tensed up and kept showing off his teeth. "She is NOT my friend."

"Oh? Well then you guys can become friends! You can't ever have enough friends."

"When you go to sleep tonight, I'm gonna smother you with that Miami Vice pillow you like so much!"

"Aw, I'm sorry bro. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. I just noticed you told Mordecai, and random people on the street…"

"That's different!" Rigby bellyached.

"No it's not Rigby. Thanks for the sandwich Don."

Don smiled at Mordecai and retreated back into the kitchen.

"I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Tomorrow I'm going to pull myself out, and pretend none of this ever happened." Rigby crossed his arms and pouted.

"Well whatever you gotta do dude."

Mordecai yawned and Rigby perked up. He hadn't seen Mordecai in awhile, after all.

"Dude! What about you? How are things with Benson?" snickered Rigby.

"Uh. I don't want to hear that name ever again."

"Ah, that sucks man." Rigby said, not really sympathetic. More like amused and giggly. "What'd he do?"

Mordecai preceded to tell Rigby everything that had happened since everyone but him and Benson left the house. The snow salt, the plasma TV, the asshole plants, and finally the friggin' list. Rigby listened intently and nodded along enthusiastically until finally Mordecai's update was done. Rigby's lips quivered at first, and Mordecai could see how Rigby was resisting, trying to keep his face normal, but eventually he lost the battle and busted out laughing. Mordecai groaned.

"It's not funny, dude."

"Yes it is! Haha! Dude you kicked a TV in it's face! Then you spent a day watering those asshole plants-"

"I friggin' hate those fichus trees."

"Me too man! And to top it all of Benson gives you a list of crap you can't do. Nice!" Rigby laughed some more.

"Yeah, well you wouldn't be laughing so hard if you were in my shoes." Mordecai grumbled.

"You're right. But I'm not. So I can do this."

Rigby went into Mordecai personal space and laughed his hardest, then fell back onto the couch and laughed. He sat up whilst still laughing and then pointed at Mordecai. And laughed. Mordecai sat and waited until the laughing stopped (three minutes of laughing) and Rigby caught his breath.

"After I pummel you into the ground, I think I've got something to raise our spirits… If you catch my drift." Mordecai suddenly became very intense, and Rigby devilishly smiled.

"Oh I know exactly what you mean." Rigby rubbed his paws together. "I bring the matches; you just pick the time and place."

Mordecai stared at Rigby, mortified. "_I_ was talking about messing with Benson and his stupid list. What the hell were _you_ talking about?"

"Uh, nothing. Nothing at all. Let's do what you said."

"Right…" Mordecai looked at Rigby sideways but continued on. "Now all we gotta do is figure out what to do first…."

"Nice!"

"Nicer."

"Nicest!"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

_1. No use of the house phones after 11pm. _

The first was pretty easy to get around. Benson said the rule was necessary so that Mordecai wouldn't keep him up with late night phone calls.

Two days after he was given the list, (New Years passed with very little fanfare) Mordecai came home from reviewing the plan with Rigby and a few other friends of his and went to find Benson.

He was just coming in from the back door in the kitchen, and Mordecai stopped to apologize for his attitude before.

Benson was instantly suspicious.

"Why the pleasantries, all of a sudden?"

Benson was wearing a red flannel shirt and a white t-shirt underneath that and some boot cut jeans, which confused Mordecai because Benson didn't bother to wear clothes before. He held a medium sized box ever so carefully, and Mordecai was tempted to peek inside. Benson kept the box close to himself.

"I just figured I was being unreasonable. I promise from this day forward to follow all of the rules to a tee. As long as you can tweak some of them. So I can follow them better." Mordecai smiled with no teeth, he didn't want to come of insincere.

Benson didn't look too convinced, but couldn't see anything amiss in Mordecai's words, so he shrugged. This cause the box he was holding to get away from him, and he struggled to balance it in his hands, so Mordecai naturally went to help. Benson backed away like Mordecai was going to hurt him.

"Do… You need help with that?" Mordecai eyed Benson, his reaction to Mordecai was a little odd.

"No!" Benson yelled, then lowered his voice. "No. Just. I got it, thank you."

Cue awkward silence.

"We can discuss revisions to the list later." Benson looked down at his box, filled with what was the question.

"Sweet. Thanks. I'm going to bed now, so… "

Mordecai quickly turned to leave, and before he touched the first step, he heard Benson call to him.

"Mordecai!"

Mordecai hesitated a little but looked back to see Benson standing there with the box balanced on his knee somewhat.

Benson looked a little embarrassed, like he really didn't want to say what he was about to say. "Uh… Could you…?" Benson gestured to the box with his head.

"Oh sure."

Mordecai went to him and took the box.

JesusMaryJoseph it was heavy. Mordecai was surprised Benson was able to carry it through the door.

"Just upstairs to the guest room."

Mordecai's knees wobbled as he went up the stairs. The guest room seemed to be miles away.

_What's in here? Boulders?_

Benson went in front of Mordecai to open the door for him and Mordecai dropped Benson's box on the bed, and collapsed on the bed himself. Benson rolled his eyes.

"Dramatic much?"

"This thing is heavy! What is in this box?" Mordecai asked out of breath.

Benson smirked a bit. But it wasn't bitter. It was like he remembered something funny.

"Personal stuff."

Mordecai looked at Benson with curiosity as he gently pushed the box into his closet.

He saw that little smile.

"What kind of personal stuff?" asked Mordecai.

Benson stood up straight and studied him.

"The kind that's personal."

"That's not really descriptive." Mordecai sat up on the bed.

"Don't you have better things to do then quiz me?"

"Yes." Mordecai said. "But you've caught my attention."

Benson sighed and looked down at his shoes.

"Just some stuff from college." Benson furrowed his eyebrows. "Why do you care?"

Mordecai didn't know why he wanted to know. He always had this weird impulse to find out new things about people.

"Just curious." Mordecai shrugged. "Is it like, really embarrassing? Like dirty magazines?"

Benson's head shot up. "No!"

Mordecai laughed at Benson's reaction. "Then what is it?"

Benson leaned against a wall. Mordecai could tell he didn't really want to tell him.

The guest room, then inhabited by Benson looked clean and uninteresting. The curtains perfectly positioned and the wood floors shiny. It was already dark out, and the little lamp on the white nightstand was surprisingly luminescent. It almost seemed like it was morning inside the room, and no where else.

Bright yet uninteresting. Clear but vague.

_Yep. This is Benson's room. _

"So… Are you gonna leave? Or…"

"Can't you just tell me what's in the box? If it's nothing embarrassing then it shouldn't matter."

Benson took a deep breath.

_Why am I telling him this? Why won't he just __**leave**__?_

"They're records, alright? Happy? Now get out."

"Holy shit really? The kind you put on a record player?"

"That's how they're usually played."

Mordecai face palmed. "Ha! Right, stupid question. Can I listen to-"

"No. No you can't. Thanks for the help but you gotta go. Go!"

Benson pulled Mordecai up and rushed him out, much to Mordecai's protests.

"Aw, c'mon! Lemme see-"

"If you go anywhere near my room or that box, you're **dead**."

And with that Benson closed the door with a tiny slam. Mordecai could hear the lock click.

He stared at the closed door stupidly.

"Well goodnight to you too, then. _Jeez_."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It was five minutes past eleven when the phone ringing started.

Mordecai laid on the sofa, half asleep, but progressively woke himself up.

The phones continued to ring. And ring. And ring. And ring.

But Mordecai stayed lying on the sofa.

He made sure to turn the answering machines off, so whoever was calling could keep trying.

So the phones kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing. And ringing.

The ring was high pitched and persisted without fail. Benson came downstairs sooner or later to answer the phone in the kitchen.

"Who is this?" Mordecai heard Benson ask groggily.

Nobody said anything, as Mordecai assumed and Benson got irritated.

He asked again.

Still nothing was said, if they had followed Mordecai's directions. Benson hung the phone up, walked past the sofa and went back upstairs.

He was slightly annoyed, Mordecai observed.

Eleven thirty and the phones rung again. Except when Benson answered it the ringing continued after he hung up.

Benson groaned and hung the phone up again.

He walked past the sofa again, but not before looking over to see Mordecai was wide awake.

"Why haven't you been answering the phone?"

Mordecai yawned. "Against the rules."

Benson bit down hard on his lower lip and stormed off upstairs.

The ringing started up again and didn't stop until five am.

All Benson could hear was the ringing. He stayed up with wide eyes staring at the phone in his room as it rung. It didn't matter if he left them off the hook or unplugged them the _freaking_ phones kept on _FREAKING_ ringing.

Ringading! Ringading! Ringading! Ringading!

**RINGADING! Ringading! RINGADING! Ringading! RINGADING! Ringading! RINGADING! Ringading! **

**RINGADING! RINGADING! RINGADING! RINGADING! RINGADING! **

Mordecai heard the constant ringing, and Benson's occasional yelling of complaints, and reminded himself he owed Rigby and the others a **huge** one.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Alas, the victory was short lived.

As Mordecai shoveled snow off the porch for the third time, Benson got rid of all the phones in the house.

Mordecai heard him grunt as he pulled at the phone in the living room.

"Benson… What are you doing?"

Benson finally got the phone off and chucked it in the trash bag next to him. Mordecai stood helplessly.

"I was just thinking… As I should have been asleep," Benson said as he ripped the last phone out of the wall. "That the phones are a little distracting. Don't you agree?"

"Not really! No! How are people supposed to call us?"

"I have a cell phone." Benson answered with a smile.

Benson wore his yellow coat that fit him snugly and the black scarf. Instead of the boots that were too big for him he just wore some jeans and shoes that looked too small.

_Seriously? Where the hell are all the clothes coming from?_

"Let me rephrase… How are people supposed to call me? And what if I need to call the police and you're not here?"

"Oh I'll always be here." Benson said, smile a little manic. "Don't you worry about that. And if Rigby needs to talk to you so badly you can visit him at Don's."

Benson threw the phone in a trash bag as Mordecai sucked on his teeth. He did not anticipate that. Though in hindsight he totally should have seen it coming.

"It was Rigby that was calling last night?" Mordecai tried and failed to sound nonchalant.

"Mhmm. Some other guys too… Not that you didn't know that."

Benson put the trash bag near the kitchen back door and Mordecai followed. His glasses fogged up but he was too preoccupied to clear them.

"Don't you think this is a little extreme?"

Benson stopped everything he was doing and faced Mordecai. The best way Mordecai could describe Benson at that time was 'Serial Killer Calm'.

"Yeah. I guess it is. But it's not as extreme as say, organizing a small group of friends to bombard the house phones all night. Now _that's_ extreme."

Mordecai backed off and stared at Benson like he was crazy… Because he was crazy.

"That's insane."

"Oh, just loony."

Benson stared Mordecai down.

_Tit for tat I suppose. We just gotta get clever… _

"I'm just gonna… Finish the porch." Mordecai slowly walked away, and Benson shook his head then left out the back door.

It was a time for a celebratory cigarette and some pictures of the park landscape.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Benson ended up shooting the trees again.

He knew that he really should be more versatile, try something different, but the trees just looked so gorgeous covered with snow.

The trees near the eastern playground were especially beautiful. He has just there amongst the lonely swings and cheerfully snapped away.

The ringing phones were a distant memory.

Oh he was stilled pissed. Don't misunderstand that, and if Mordecai pulled anymore shit like that they were gonna have a full on war. But right then, he was at peace.

Just his camera and him. No one else. Perfection.

He had an old camera, one he had bought years ago because Diane Arbus had and he just had to have it too, but it didn't have the same quality. Not that he minded.

Newer didn't always equate to better.

The pictures were coming out odd though, he had to admit.

He was developing them the other day and no matter what angle, without fail, a huge… Something kept obstructing the view. Some pictures were clear and some pictures had that damn blur. It was faint and to an unskilled photographer unnoticeable but that blur bothered the hell out of Benson.

Benson took the last few pictures he needed and folded up his camera, but soon he heard a twig snap.

Benson spun around fast and saw no one, but he knew better.

_I've seen enough horror movies to know the curious assholes die first. _

Benson put his camera in the case and began to jog back to the house when heard something else.

Benson's listened closer.

_Is… That sounds like crying? Somebody's crying out here? _

He thought that was pretty odd, considering the park was closed and no one could get in without a key to the main entrance gate but tried to find the maybe crying person anyway.

"Hello?" Benson voice reverberated in the air and he heard no response back.

Benson waited, feeling the snow's cold penetrate his clothes and freeze him up.

"The park is closed for the remainder of January!" Benson yelled to no one.

The sobbing got louder.

Benson had an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

He decided that he had better find this person already and go back inside.

It was then, just when he had given up looking, that Benson saw Pops underneath the slide crying his eyes out.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Pops ate up his soup happily, and smiled at Benson once he wrapped a blanket around him.

"Benson my good man, thank you for the porridge."

Mordecai looked at the older man with worry.

"Pops what are you _doing_ here?"

Pops suddenly became very sullen and his voice got softer. "Papa promised me a vacation with just us two. No work, no talk of business… But I rarely saw him since I was dropped off! He's been to busy with his newest acquaintance. Some Jerry fellow." Pops hung his head.

"Jerry?" Benson and Mordecai said simultaneously.

"Yes. It appears Papa loves Jerry more than me. So I ran away. My plan was to escape to Port Ricko."

Benson's face twisted in confusion. "I think you mean Puerto Rico, Pops. And you can't walk there. You'd have to take a plane."

"Yes, that is something I learned a bit too late. I then returned here, where I knew you two would be."

"Sorry Pops." Mordecai patted Pops on his shoulder.

"It's quite alright. At least now I'm amongst comrades."

Benson sadly smiled.

"Well you can stay here for the night, but we're gonna have to call your father to pick you up."

"What? No!" Mordecai contested.

Benson shot him a nasty look, but Mordecai ignored him and spoke to Pops.

"Pops? Do you wanna stay here instead of your father's?"

Pops clapped his hands together. "Oh yes! More than anything."

"Then there you go. You can stay!"

Pops hopped up and hugged both Benson and Mordecai at the same time. "Good show! Jolly good show! We are going to have the most delightful time!" Pops buzzed with excitement and ran upstairs to his room. "Tomorrow, we can break out the pictograph and really have ourselves a shin-dig!"

Mordecai smiled after Pops, happy to make him happy and soon was met with the "Flaming Stare of Death" from Benson.

"Why the hell did you tell him he could stay?" Benson angrily whispered.

"C'mon, Benson. I mean, his own father has been ignoring him. For _days_."

"He should be with his **father**, Mordecai."

Mordecai huffed and was silent for awhile. But just as the silence settled, "Everyone hates when you do that, Y'know."

"Do what?" Benson asked, exasperated.

"When you defend Mr. Maellard. Muscle Man, High Fives, Rigby, Skips and I hear what goes on in those meetings between you two." Mordecai didn't look at Benson. He kept his eyes everywhere else but Benson. "The guy treats you like shit, Benson. And you defend him like he's your friend."

Benson narrowed his eyes. "I don't **defend **him. He's just a busy man and he would appreciate it if-"

"He's not here. You don't have to stick up for the old bastard." Mordecai said, getting annoyed himself.

"You don't think I know that? _**Really**_? You think I'm totally oblivious to that?" Benson barked out. "He's a decrypted old asshole who's making my job worse. Sorta like what you're doing right now."

Mordecai harshly retorted, "_You're _making your own job worse!"

"_Oh please_. I'm not the one you delivered a flying kick to a TV. Which cost as much as a small island, I might add."

Mordecai bitterly laughed and got up from the couch, shaking his head.

"Where are you going? This discussion isn't over!"

"I can't talk to you when you're yelling at me." Mordecai sighed.

"I'm not **yelling** at you!"

Mordecai stopped in his tracks. He lowered his voice, and spoke softly and clearly to his boss. "I'm going to say goodnight to Pops, then go to sleep myself. We can do whatever you wanna do tomorrow. I'm not gonna interfere anymore. You… You're so…"

Mordecai struggled with his words and his tongue kept getting in the way, until he just gave up and turned his back.

Benson ran up behind him and spun Mordecai around.

"**What**? What were you gonna say?"

Mordecai looked dead in Benson's eyes. It was a little unsettling.

"You're exhausting. You're _exhausting,_ Benson. Have you ever noticed how pissed off you are? Yeah, I screw up and it gets under you skin, I take full responsibility for my actions. But… You get pissed off. At everything. You just… _Radiate_ anger. All the time."

Benson backed off. He blinked a few times and finally stared at Mordecai in amazement.

"You think **I'm** exhausting… Really? **Me**?"

Mordecai shrugged. "Maybe Pops needs to stay here. He loosens you up a little."

Mordecai advanced up the stairs and left Benson alone.

He crossed his arms and let out a breath he had no idea he was holding in. He began to laugh at Mordecai's words, promptly deciding they were pure bullshit.

Benson looked up the stairs, as if Mordecai would appear again.

He wanted to yell up the stairs that Mordecai was just as exhausting, maybe even more so then he supposedly was, but stopped himself.

Benson realized it was much later than he thought, it was pitch black outside and he was tired.

He was just _so tired. _

_''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''_

_A/N: The updates are gonna be a little spazzy, I'm sorry. And Aug. 13 I'll be out of state so... It'll be inactive then. But then is not now... So enjoy! And to Dentist of Dragons, Yes. I literally have nothing better to do than write this. No sarcasm at all, I swear. Thus the upside to being a total social outcast. :D_


	10. Chapter 10

"Why Puerto Rico?"

Mordecai sat adjacent to Pops who was playing his baby grand.

The older man made his fingers dance over the white and black keys with such cheer, but was surprisingly precise.

Pops tilted his head and smiled.

"The birds."

Mordecai thought about that for a moment, images of reds and blues flying around.

"The birds are nice. From the pictures and nature shows I've seen."

"They are much more beautiful in real life! If you ever get the chance to see them I do suggest you take it."

"I just might Pops." Mordecai smiled.

Pops was playing Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto 231. Or as he called it, "A song where the piano is happy, then mad, then it gets _really_ scary!"

Pops made the piano boom. Must have been the mad part.

"Or," Pops said with a growing smile, "You could always take a peek at Benson's pictures of the birds! He is the most talented photographer."

"Benson takes pictures?"

"Oh indeed! Benson is very good! Alas, he told me never to tell anyone of his photography. Haven't the slightest idea why. It's such a shame he hides his skills."

Mordecai's eyes widened a little. Benson didn't strike him as the photographer type. His impulse to dig in people's business started to nag at him.

"Yeah. A shame… Do you have any pictures of his?"

The piano fell silent as Pops got up, went to his nightstand and opened the drawer. Pops rustled around the drawer and picked up a small photograph. He handed it to Mordecai.

"It was one of the first pictures he ever took."

It was a willow tree.

Normally, Mordecai hated nature shots. To Mordecai it screamed: "Oh look how this tree symbolizes… Communism or some bullshit." But the tree was blowing in the wind, a strong wind it seemed, and a stream of lightning could be seen really, _really freakin' _close. Droplets of water peppered the lens and Mordecai found himself staring at the picture with fierce intent.

_Holy. Shit. _

"Benson took this during a freaking thunderstorm!"

Pops furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the picture with Mordecai.

"I think it was a hurricane actually." Pops giggled. "But it wasn't very close."

Mordecai studied the picture. He was… He didn't know what he was. Impressed? Shocked? Well yeah. But he felt more, for some reason, concerned.

"Why? All that trouble to take a picture of a tree?"

Pops' eyes lit up a little.

"Sometimes it's that extra trouble that makes the picture worth more."

"Whatever you say…" Mordecai waved Pops' words off.

Mordecai stood near Pops' bed still looking at the photograph. Pops returned to his piano. He didn't play though. He instead sat and leaned on his elbow.

"Now that I think of it, a majority of Benson's photographs were of trees for a long period of time. Willow trees specifically. It's the oddest thing. Then, out of nowhere, they just stopped."

Mordecai asked, "He stopped taking pictures?"

"Oh no! He just steered away from willow trees. He takes more pictures of the rain; of the snow nowadays. Of course I do notice the occasional tree sneak in."

"Huh." Mordecai says absentmindedly.

He was still looking at the picture of the willow tree. He turned it over and noticed writing in black ink. He read the back.

**B&V, 1987 **

Mordecai laughed to himself.

_Benson is- or was a tree hugger. Or a tree fetishist. Never heard of those. I know a tree fetishist! _

"You should see Benson when he's at work." said Pops, grinning ear to ear with clapping hands. "He so happy when the camera goes, 'Click! Click!'"

"Is he?" Mordecai said.

Mordecai just assumed Benson was physically unable to express mirth.

"Yes! His eyes light up and everything!"

Pops suddenly became very calm. He appeared to be thinking very hard about what he just said, and looked over to Mordecai. "He isn't like that most of the time; is he?"

"No. Not at _all_." Mordecai laughed.

"Oh how I wish he was. It's a joy to see him so… Not himself."

Mordecai nodded slowly as Pops looked about ready to cry. He brought the conversation back to the pictures.

"Do you know where Benson keeps his photographs?"

Pops tsk-tsked.

"I don't think Benson would want me telling you that."

"No, no! I'm not going to look at them or anything. I just want to know so I can… Avoid them."

"Oh?"

"Well if I know where they are, I can remind myself not to go near there."

"That's a pretty smart idea!" Pops looked over his shoulders, making sure no one was listening but him and Mordecai. "Benson keeps them in a secret room next to his office."

"That closet labeled: 'Normal Closet'?"

"That's the one!"

Mordecai deadpanned, "Wow. That's incredibly transparent."

Pops shook his head enthusiastically. "It was _my_ idea!"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Benson called Mr. Maellard on his cell phone the moment he woke up.

Actually, he took a shower and ate some toast.

But as soon as he ate that toast Mr. Maellard's phone was ringing.

He leaned against a kitchen counter and waited for his boss to pick up.

"Maellard Manor." A vaguely familiar voice answered.

"Oh! Hello, is Mr. Maellard home? This is Benson."

"Mr. Maellard is very busy at the moment. But this is Jerry McGuire, his lawyer. You can relay any messages to him to me."

Once Benson learned he was speaking to Jerry his brain felt as if… As if it had been dunked in a glass of seltzer.

"Uh, I really think this is something Mr. Maellard needs to hear personally."

"Is this about the disappearance of Pops Maellard?"

"Yes… Yes actually. Does Mr. Maellard know Pops is here with me? Has he asked for him?"

Jerry chuckled. "Mr. Maellard is sure you are taking good care of his son and wants to thank you for your kindness."

"Oh. Well tell him it's no problem. Are you sure I can't talk to him for the shortest sec-"

"Mr. Maellard," Jerry said firmly. "Is very busy at the moment. But I'll tell him you called."

"I appreciate you telling me. Really. Though I still want to talk to him. Please and thank you."

_In and out. In and out. He's just doing his job… Wait a minute. Wait one friggin' minute. _

"Aren't you a lawyer, Jerry?"

"Yes sir." Jerry said proudly.

"No offense sir, but I didn't think your profession calls for you to answer your clients phone calls."

Benson heard Jerry take a deep breath. "I'm very… Dedicated to my clients, Mr. Benson."

"_Sure_. Put Mr. Maellard on the phone."

"I told you already, _he's busy_. I'll tell him Pops is gone and how **great **of a job you're doing. Now please-"

Benson narrowed his eyes. "I thought he _knew_ Pops' wasn't there with him."

"Hmm?" Jerry said as he caught himself. "Yes. I mean no. Wha-"

"You told me Mr. Maellard knew Pops was with me. Now you're saying he doesn't even know Pops is there? What's going on Jerry?"

Jerry said nothing. "Put Mr. Maellard on the phone. Put him on the phone _**now**_."

Still, Jerry said nothing as Benson angrily stared in front of him. Suddenly Jerry's voice came back, strained and rushed.

"Have a nice day."

"Don't you _**dare**_ hang up-"

The line went dead. "Hello? Hello?… Shit."

Benson put his cell phone down with a frustrating thud. He put his head on the counter and rubbed his temples. Benson officially decided he didn't like this Jerry McGuire much. He was shifty and something about him told Benson not to trust him.

"What did Papa say?"

Benson lifted his head and turned around to see Pops and Mordecai. They stared at him expectantly.

"Uh." Benson searched for a proper response.

"Was he cross at me? Please say he wasn't!"

"Your father was not mad at you." said Benson, thankful he can answer a question without lying. "But he didn't like that you left without saying anything. You can't do that Pops. It worries him."

"I know." Pops sadly said. He deflated where he stood. Mordecai stood next to him, oddly silent. "But… But did he say I could stay?"

Benson sucked in his lips and made unsure noises. "He's said… That you… Uh." Benson sighed. "It took some convincing, but he said you can stay."

"Oh!"

Pops ran over to Benson and engulfed him in a bone breaking hug. Benson was lifted up in Pop's arms, feet dangling inches from the ground. "Good show! Jolly good show! We must celebrate my father's kindness!"

It felt like shit lying to Pops. But the truth wasn't an option. No, no, no. Not even on the list.

As Pops was hugging him, Benson was facing behind the older man and saw Mordecai.

He had a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Benson mouthed. Mordecai shook his head.

Pops let Benson down and buzzed with delight. "We should get pie!"

"Pie?" Mordecai asked.

"Yes! Pie is quite appropriate for the occasion. Who's with me?"

Pops smiled between Mordecai and Benson while both men said nothing. Benson looked at his feet.

Mordecai smiled warmly.

"I'll join you Pops."

Pops hopped up and down. "Oh! Oh! I'm going to wear my special mittens!"

Up the stairs Pops flew, which left just Benson and Mordecai. The two men avoided each other's gaze, and wow the kitchen was pretty boring looking. Eventually the whole vibe got awkward and Benson decided to break the tension.

"I'm gonna sit this one out."

"Hmm. Not a fan of pie?"

Benson shook his head. "Not a fan of pie."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I mean. Do you not like a particular flavor… Or…"

"All pie, actually."

"Wow. Really? Like for real? All of them?"

"Yes." said Benson, getting annoyed.

"You just throw a blanket of hatred." Mordecai nodded slowly. "Over the pies of America."

Benson gave Mordecai a face dripping with 'Are We Seriously Having This Conversation?'. No one said anything else, until Mordecai started to chuckle. "Well. You seem more like a cobbler person."

Mordecai laughed a little more, but gradually stopped when he realized Benson wasn't laughing along.

Benson rolled his eyes and then they landed on the picture Mordecai held.

"What's that in your hand?"

"This?" Mordecai held it up. "A picture."

"I know that. Of what?"

Mordecai was trying to think of something to tell him, but, unfortunately for him, Benson was already in front of Mordecai in milliseconds and ripped the picture from his hands.

Benson became, in the Understatement of the Year, unhinged.

"How… How the _hell_ did you get this?"

Mordecai held up his hands in defense. "Calm down, dude!"

"How did you get _this_? Did you go into my room and take this?"

"No! Pops gave it to me! H-he gave it to me!"

Benson looked at the picture, then Mordecai with angry eyes. He was breathing in and out harshly, holding on to the picture of the tree and spoke in a loud, shaky voice.

"You're _lying_! "

"No I'm not! Jesus, Benson calm down! Pops had it in his nightstand and showed it to me." Mordecai lowered his hands. "Calm down, Benson."

Benson continued to breathe in and out, in and out softly… Until it his breathing was steady again. His grip on the photograph loosened and he looked a little less like someone on crystal meth. "I didn't steal it, okay? Pops was just telling me how you take pictures and gave me this. It's… It's good."

Benson was calmed down, but his eyes were still angry. "I really mean it, too. The way the leaves are swaying and the lightning and stuff. You took this picture in a hurricane, dude! That's pretty badass."

Mordecai nervously grinned. "I'd love to see your other stuff."

Benson didn't answer him. He just looked back down at the willow tree.

Mordecai stared at Benson, at his angry eyes and they way they scanned the picture, and realized they weren't angry at all.

_No… Not angry… Sad maybe?_

Benson studied the picture further, not-angry-eyes moved side to side, and Mordecai wondered if he should have left… But Benson suddenly ripped up the picture and went over to the trash. The bits of the photograph fell softly down into the bin.

Mordecai stared on, mouth agape.

"Why did you _do_ that?"

Benson walked away and passed Mordecai while he ordered, "Be back home before it gets dark."

As he left, Pops reemerged with his black petticoat and red mittens.

"Mordecai~! We can go get the pie now~!"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Mordecai and Pops went into the Coffee Shop and heard a small voice from nowhere greet them.

"Hi Mordecai!"

Mordecai and Pops looked all around and saw no one.

"Down here." the voice said, a bit embarrassed.

Below stood Eileen, in her work uniform and waving at the both of them.

"Oh! Hello Eileen." Mordecai waved back.

"I'm Pops!" Pops introduced himself gleefully.

"Hello, Pops." Eileen smiled the dorkiest smile and blushed a little.

Eileen was such a nerd. Mordecai loved that about her. Wanted to know the deadliest mammal in the animal kingdom? Most purchased brand of underwear? Or other useless trivia? Eileen was your girl. "I'll go tell Margaret you here!"

Eileen went into the shops' back. Pops and Mordecai walked over to the closest table and met up with a miserable looking Rigby. He seemed to light up when he saw them.

"Oh thank God! I was one minute away from blowing my brains all over the place."

"Are you _still _complaining about that, dude?" Mordecai chuckled.

Rigby pouted.

Mordecai never understood Rigby's animosity towards Eileen. He assumed Rigby didn't find her attractive and deflected her advances, but there was no need to be so harsh to her.

It didn't seem to matter much. Eileen just couldn't take the **friggin' **hint.

"She's worse than a broken limb, Mordecai. She's way, _way_ worse." Rigby's voice became dramatically low. "Hi Pops."

"When are we going to get pie?" Pops asked innocently.

"Soon enough Pops." Mordecai said, then turned back to Rigby. "Why are you even here dude?"

"I have to be here. Damn instructor dude told us were legally required to stay together."

Mordecai quirked an eyebrow. "So you didn't drop the classes."

"They won't release me from the freakin' contract man!" Rigby's voice got steadily louder. "I'm all, 'I don't wanna do this anymore' and they're like 'That's too bad because you signed a contract and blah blah blah we're stupid douchebags that wear sunglasses inside!'" Rigby yelled as he stood on the table.

Everyone in the Coffee Shop stared at Rigby. It was dead quiet except for the baby crying in the distance.

"You wanna sit down, dude?"

Rigby got down from the table and grumbled. "Eileen is working her shift, then we're gonna scan the city for paranormal energy."

"I'm going to get cherry, then work my way up to lemon meringue pie." Pops said to himself.

"Sounds like something in a movie." Mordecai said. "A real cheesy movie that goes straight to DVD."

"The gang's all here!"

Margaret walked up to table with Eileen, grinning ear to ear. Everyone greeted her warmly.

Margaret wasn't so tired looking that day. She was bright and smiling and Mordecai was just happy to see her happy. Pops looked at Margaret like she was someone famous.

"Hey Margaret, could we get some pies please? It's for Pops."

Mordecai smiled along with Margaret. Mordecai knew it was stupid, but he liked to think her smile was just for him.

"Sure!" Margaret smiled at Pops. "What kind?"

"Cherry, please." Pops giggled.

"Margaret, could I get an espresso?" Rigby asked, still grumpy.

Eileen interrupted Margaret's response. "I'll cover your order Rigby. In fact, I'll get the pies too. We can have coffee and pie together, and when we're done, we'll go ghost hunting and talk about ferrets!"

"They're the Christopher Walkens of the rodent family." Eileen explained to the group.

"We're looking for energy. Not _ghosts_. The instructor said 'ghost' wasn't the proper term." Rigby corrected Eileen.

"Oh. Sorry… Then we'll hunt for ghost energy. Together!"

Eileen went off to fill Rigby's order and when she was out of earshot, Rigby said to everyone at the table, "If any of you were my true friends, you'd kill me before she comes back."

Much laughter commenced, but Rigby continued to wear his sour face. "I'm serious."

It was a decent enough group, everyone relatively liked each other and Mordecai was glad to be around people who didn't think he was some screw up or yelled at him all the time. It was such a relief to be away from Benson. But at the same time, Mordecai felt bad for his boss. He wondered where Benson went when he couldn't deal with everything.

Margaret tilted her head in a considering way, and Rigby noticed she was staring at him.

"What?" Rigby asked, voice losing the edge it had when he was talking to Eileen.

"Why don't you like Eileen, Rigby? She's perfect for you!"

"She's _Eileen_."

"She's so pleasant!" Pops chirped.

"She's _Eileen_."

"She's the only girl I know that doesn't mind being around you." Mordecai said mockingly.

"She's _Eileen_!" Rigby groaned finally.

"I think you need to be realistic here." Mordecai told Rigby. "The fact Eileen can even _look_ at you is a miracle."

"Don't say that. Rigby's adorwable." Margaret scratched Rigby's head.

Rigby swatted her away, but smiled wide nonetheless. "She's just not… **It**."

Eileen came back (_Holy crap. That was fast!_) with three cherry pies for Pops, Mordecai and Rigby.

"Where's my espresso?" Rigby complained.

Eileen revealed medium sized espresso with foam on the top. It had a heart drawn in chocolate.

"It's specially made for you Rigby."

Rigby looked down at the chocolate heart. He frowned. He pushed it towards Mordecai.

"I'm not in the mood for coffee."

"Oh." said Eileen, her disappointment apparent. She perked right back up. "Well! You just finish up your cherry pie and we can go."

"Yeah." Rigby said, not even looking at her.

Eileen disappeared once again, Pops and Mordecai dug in, and Margaret continued talking with Rigby.

"Such high standards you have Rigby." Margaret smirked. "You must think very highly of yourself."

"Well not just anyone should be allowed to ride the Oil Rig." Rigby smiled slyly.

Margaret and Rigby laughed together and the moment made Mordecai fake cough. The two stopped laughing and faced their friend.

"This pie… It's uh… Hot."

They looked at each other, than back at Mordecai awkwardly.

_I'mnotjealousI'mnotjealousMeandMargaretaren'tevendatinganymoreI'mnotjealousRigby'sjustmessingaroundI'mnotjealousI'mnotjealous… _

"Well I'm just happy I have the ability to fall in love so quickly. Sometimes you just have be open."

Pops came up from his pie, and stared at Margaret wide shining eyes.

"You're in love Miss Margaret?"

Margaret nodded and put a hand over her heart. "His name's Austin."

"What happened to Mr. Rodgers? I mean Steve?"

"Don't interrupt Mordecai. Anyway, when I'm with Austin I feel my troubles and worries wash away. I'm truly happy."

"Happy?" Pops repeated, as if Margaret's words were hypnotizing him.

"Mhmm. I really suggest falling in love if you're stressed or you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Love makes you happy."

Pops slowly smiled to himself. It was clear to anyone at that table, at that moment, he had decided something important in his childlike mind.

"Wanna see something cool Pops?" Rigby asked.

"Of course!"

Rigby reached behind him and brought about a device that looked very similar to a price scanner. Rigby snatched Pops hat and scanned it with the device and his hat began to glow.

"Oh~!" Pops poked at his hat.

"Check it. Pops' hat is twenty five percent paranormal activity. Quite high." Rigby said to them all, high and mighty.

Mordecai rolled his eyes at Pops being easily impressed by Rigby's magic trick. He yawned and grinned at Margaret.

"How long has this Austin guy been in the picture?" He asked in an amused tone.

"About four days."

Everyone in the group stared at Margaret and tilted their heads.

"What?" Margaret asked with a shrug of her shoulders. "I fall fast. _What_?"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

When Mordecai and Pops got back into the cart to go back home, Pops looked like he was thinking again.

"Whatcha thinkin' bout Pops?" Mordecai asked as he started up the vehicle.

The older gentleman had a tiny smile.

"Nothing in particular… Except. Mordecai? What is your opinion of homosexuals?"

Mordecai almost fell out the driver's seat.

Pops looked at him awaiting an answer. Mordecai sputtered and stuttered and…

_Where the __**hell**__ did that come from? _

"Uh.. Um.. W-why do… Why do you ask?"

Pops shrugged. "Merely pondering."

"Do you," Mordecai spoke slowly, to make sure Pops understood. "Do you **know **what homosexual means Pops? I'm not sure you really know-"

"A gentleman you favors relationships with other gentlemen. And ladies who fall in love with other ladies. They're called leslies!"

"Lesbians, Pops."

"Oh, where?" Pops looks all around himself to find the invisible women who love women.

"No Pops I was… Nevermind." Mordecai shook his head. "I guess. I guess I have no problem with 'homosexuals'." Mordecai made a funny face at the word. It seemed so technical to say it. A little offensive. "I mean. Love is love."

"And love makes people happy."

"Yes. Love makes people happy." Mordecai heard Margaret's words as he spoke to Pops.

Pops grinned at Mordecai, in a way that made him very suspicious.

"So you like homosexuals?"

"Uh… Yes? What I mean is… That sort of implies there's something to hate."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean. I can be friends with anyone. Their sexuality is irrelevant. It depends on their personality."

"I see." Pops looked out into the road. "Let's go home now."

The golf cart drove away from the Coffee Shop with a very distracting hum, and Mordecai's suspicious feeling was not helped at all by Pops' satisfied grin.


	11. Chapter 11

_7. No guests on weekdays and on weekends, no guests after 9pm. (ESPECIALLY RIGBY.)_

Three days after the pie celebration (January 5th) Pops settled in quite nicely. He made it very clear that he wanted to work just as hard as the other two housemates. Benson was touched by Pops' determined spirit, really, but…

"There's not much to do." Benson said looking out at the park. "Except for the occasional shoveling and salting, tidying the house sometimes… We, Me and Mordecai I mean, have everything covered. But thank you anyway Pops. That's very kind of you."

Benson smiled at Pops and he smiled back. Just as Benson was about to retreat into the kitchen, Pops lightly grabbed hold of his arm.

"Um, Benson my good man, I was merely pondering to myself and I just wanted to know if me and Mordecai could look at your pictures? Please?"

"My pictures?" Benson said surprised. "Why?"

"Well I was just telling Mordecai of your talent. I really think he'd appreciate it!"

"Did Mordecai tell you to ask me?"

Benson narrowed his eyes and sort of gestured his head above him, accusing a sleeping Mordecai.

"Not at all! He hasn't the slightest idea this conversation is being had."

Benson crossed his arms. He tried to dissect Pops motive, which usually wasn't that hard (Pops is very bad at hiding his emotions.) but right then, Benson was stumped.

"I'll think about it."

Pops clapped his hands. "Wonderful!"

"That's not a 'yes' Pops. I just said that I'll think about it." said Benson. He didn't want to get Pops hopes up.

"Not to worry! That just means you need a little persuading."

"What is tha-"

Benson began to question Pops, but he was gone in a flash, singing an obnoxious song about touches and glances across the room.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"Mordecai! Mordecai!"

Mordecai was half asleep. He reached out for his glasses that seemed to be miles and miles away from his grasp, and put them on to see who was waking him up.

"I'm getting' up, I'm getting' up…"

Mordecai shot straight up and yelled, "**Rigby** how the hell did you get in here?"

Rigby raised an eyebrow at his friend. Rigby laughed at him and laid down on his pile of clothes.

"So Mordecai, I've been thinking."

"How did? What?"

"That's the power of teleportation, man. Lesson six. Just perfected it."

Mordecai's eyes flickered to the open window.

"_Sure_. Does Benson know you're here?"

Rigby stared pointedly at Mordecai. "Yes Mordecai. Our boss that hates me is totally cool with me being here. That's why I teleported in here in the first place man! Well. That and it was a good excuse to ditch Eileen."

"You're such an ass, sometimes."

Rigby waved Mordecai's words off. "So I was thinking dude. That list Benson gave you, not as bad as you thought."

Mordecai had totally forgotten about Benson's list of rules. He guessed the arrival of Pops made Benson forget about enforcing them.

"What do you mean, dude?"

"Well. All it is is annoying crap you do."

"What?" Mordecai snapped.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! No need to get all defensive… I just think we can't do the whole 'Bring Down the Man' thing when 'The Man' is… Kinda right."

"So you're agreeing with Benson."

"No… I'm just saying rule number eight? The one about you and your, um. 'Herbs'? Yeah. You don't hide it well."

Mordecai felt all the heat in his body rush to his face.

"_Shut up_."

"But rule number seven got me thinking." Rigby hopped on Mordecai's bed and got dangerously close to his friend's face. "You know what I'm thinking?"

"Yes… And it troubles me that I had to learn about your sexuality this way."

Rigby weakly punched Mordecai. "_Eww_. No dude! I'm talking about getting Benson out the house, calling up a bunch of our friends, and partying until we puke up our guts!"

"A party?"

Mordecai wanted to be up for it. He really did. But a little voice in his head told him this was a very, very bad idea.

"Yeah man! I already have a plan and everything! A day before, you go to the Coffee Shop-"

"I don't… I'm not really feeling a party. Right now. Or later on. In fact, I get a little queasy saying the word." Mordecai laughed a little. It was so obviously forced. "Par-tee. Uh. I feel a headache coming on. Thanks anyway dude!"

Rigby squinted, then looked Mordecai up and down. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why no party?"

"I'm just not feeling it dude."

Rigby hopped down from the bed. He frowned a little at Mordecai.

"This place must be sucking the life out of you, huh?"

"Um. Yeah. Benson's really a drag…"

"Which is all the more reason to have a party!"

Mordecai averted Rigby's eyes and made unsure noises. "Look. This vacation, if you can even _call _it that, totally turned out to be the opposite of what I expected. I'm stuck with Eileen and my brother… You're stuck with Benson. It sucks dude. It **sucks**. If we throw this party we can forget about the suckiness and the disappointment and everything." Rigby kicked up a little dust. "And I hope this doesn't sound Extramega gay… But I missed ya dude."

Mordecai smirked. "That was pretty gay, dude."

"Whatever man! Are you in or out?"

Mordecai missed hanging out with Rigby too. Not like Mordecai would ever tell him that. He sighed and teetered. He tried not to let the pleading look on Rigby's face effect his decision. Of course it was easier thought than done; Mordecai chose to let Rigby influence him.

He always did.

"Throw in some live music and we'll talk."

Rigby pumped a victorious fist in the air. "_Yes_! Yes! Oh man… Oh man, this party Mordecai? This **party**? It's gonna knock your balls off. I swear to _God_!"

"Okay, dude." Mordecai chuckled. "If this party goes as well as the phone thing, I'll give you major kudos. But you still have a tendency to let things go to crap. So we'll see."

"That was lesson two. Electronic device manipulation. And don't worry about it. You'll be bowing down to my kick-ass planning skills soon enough."

"Mordecai!" Mordecai turned to look at the door. It was Pops. Pops knocked on the bedroom door one last time, and after a few seconds walked right on in. "Mordecai, the snowing has ceased. Want to make that snow gentleman?"

"Uh…" Mordecai noticed Rigby was no where in sight.

The window was closed.

_I think I need a party. __**Badly**__. _

"Sure Pops. Let me get dressed."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It was Benson's turn to water the plants.

Benson groaned as he opened the door to the greenhouse and stepped in, watering spout in hand.

"Look everybody! It's Sunshine!"

The shrubs and fichus trees pointed and laughed at Benson, who rolled his eyes started to water the flowers.

"_Asshole_… Plants."

A fichus laughed particularly cruel. Everyone knew that fichus as the so called leader. "Aw. What's the matter Sunshine? Your boyfriend dump ya?"

Benson said nothing, but his grit teeth and tight lipped face goaded the fichus.

"Is that it, Sunshine?" the leader fichus mockingly asked. "I'm _so_ sorry. _Really_ I am."

"**Shut up**," Benson made the water rain gently down on some daises.

"Look on the brightside… Bottoms are _very_ popular these days. You'll be with someone by the end of the month."

The greenhouse erupted into laughter and Benson stared daggers at the tree.

"I could let you assholes shrivel up and die, you know."

"Blah, blah, blah! I'm Benson! I smoke cheap cigarettes and take angsty pictures of willow trees because I'm just _so_ troubled! Blah, blah, blah! **Nobody loves me**!" A rose bush ridiculed him. "The trees outside wanted to let you know they think you're a disgusting pervert when you take those pictures."

"Pervert! Pervert! Pervert!" Neighboring shrubs chimed.

Benson ignored the rose bush and the round of sniggering it caused. He looked through the glass to see Mordecai and Pops finishing their snowman. It was actually pretty good. Two happy looking coal eyes and some twigs for his arms. The twigs actually appeared to form hands. He wore Benson's black scarf.

Benson has done with the bushes and shrubs. He made his way towards the fichus trees.

He thought it all started somewhere around June.

One day the plants just gained sentience. No big monster attack, or warning, just… Boom.

Talking plants.

It was exciting at first. Knowing exactly how to take care of the plants, knowing how much water or dirt to add or pull back on. They could verbalize what they needed. The guess work was eliminated. Then their 'vocabulary' grew and stranger still, a nasty hostility took over the plants. It was hell going _near_ them, let alone actually going in the greenhouse to water them.

Ungrateful bastards.

"You know what else Sunshine? The positive of being dumped and all? Your ass can take a break!"

_I just need to find those damn clippers. If I found those, it'll be all over. _

"Gay jokes. Never heard those before."

"Are we upsetting you, Sunshine?" the leader fichus cooed facetiously. "Guys. We're hurting Sunshine's feelings. We should say sorry."

Benson huffed. "Please. Please don't."

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_," The fichus started.

"_You make me happy, when skies are gray_!" The other fichus trees joined in. "_You'll never know dear! How much I love you! So please don't take! My sunshine away_!"

"Now the flowers!"

"_You are my sunshine_," The daises and poinsettias shrilly sang.

"Oh God... I have to get out of here."

Benson threw the watering spout down and stomped to the greenhouse door, but a vine wrapped around Benson's foot and held him in place. "Let me _go_."

"Shrubs! You join in!"

"_You are our sunshine!" _The shrubs sang sinisterly low, as the vine's hold on him tightened. "_Our only sunshine! You make us happy! When skies are gray!_"

"Sunshine? Where you going? We want to talk about our _feel-ings_! Come back!"

Benson kicked at the vine and it eventually let go.

"When I find those clippers, you little shits are **dead**!"

Benson quickly escaped through a crack in the door and got the hell out of there.

He leaned against the door and took a deep breath.

"Benson-"

"Ah! _What?_ What to you **want**?"

Mordecai opened his mouth then closed it as he pointed to the snow man. "We, need a nose. For the snow man."

Benson exhaled and closed his eyes. Mordecai's beak curved upwards the tiniest bit. "And you need a cigarette, it seems."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Those friggin' plants."

"Yeah."

Benson nodded. "Yeah."

The two stood and nothing could be heard but their breathing. Benson straightened up and looked over to the snow man.

"The snow man looks decent."

"Oh?" Mordecai looked over as well. "Yeah! Thanks."

Benson sucked on his teeth and put his hands underneath his armpits, even though he was wearing gloves.

"Why do you wear all those clothes?" Mordecai asked.

Benson looked at him like he was slow. "Because it's _winter_."

"But you wear clothes inside too."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you where the Clothing Police."

Mordecai was taken aback by Benson's tone. He seemed pissed for a moment, but it was immediately replaced by amusement.

"Oh it's alright. I mean, I have a badge and everything. But that's at the station."

Benson shook his head, then let it loll back. "_Funny_. Ha-ha."

"Sir you've committed two counts of random clothing exposure. You're gonna have to pay some outstanding fines."

"You're _killing_ me over here."

Benson walked away, but Mordecai simply followed alongside.

"But you'll be pardoned if just tell me where they came from. Who's your _dealer_?"

Benson rolled his eyes. He stopped in front of Pops' and Mordecai's snow man. He looked at the snow man, the way it towered over all three of them and smiled at Pops.

"You guys did a great job. Very impressive."

"Thank you Benson! But this snow gentleman isn't quite finished."

"I'll go get a carrot from inside," Mordecai announced.

Pops shook his head. "The nose we can do without."

Mordecai and Benson made confused faces.

"Then what does he need Pops?"

Pops took of his coat to get to his black vest. He put the vest on the snow man's middle section. "Dapper clothes!" Pops put his coat back on, then reached atop his huge head for his top hat. He stood on his tippy toes and positioned the hat on the snow man's head. "Now, he is officially a gentleman."

Benson looked at the snowman, then Pops, who stood triumphantly. He shrugged his shoulders.

"He looks even better. Quick thinking, Pops." he said, humoring the older man.

Mordecai, however, nervously laughed.

_I never realized how creepy this thing looked… _

"Is there something wrong, Mordecai?" Pops frowned.

"Hmm? No, no… I'm just… Really impressed!"

Pops smiled and looked between Benson and Mordecai. "Mordecai, you should take a gander at Benson photographs. Then you'll be _really_ impressed."

"You're gonna let me see your pictures?"

"I said I'd **think** about it, Pops." Benson's voice got high and tight.

The way it usually got when he was getting ticked off, but couldn't really get mad.

"Ah c'mon!" Mordecai smiled.

"I'm not really comfor-"

"Benson let him see the pictures! Pretty please? You could look at the willow trees. With hot chocolate perhaps? And the fire place aglow? Hmm~?" Pops smiled wide.

"Uh, I don't know about the hot chocolate and fire place thing," Mordecai made a face. "But I do want to see those willow trees."

"They're just _trees_." Benson said to Mordecai. "Seriously. You're not missing anything."

Mordecai's beak formed a straight line, and he let it go. Pops was more persistent.

"Then let him see the other pictures! Oh, Benson show him the others!"

Benson cracked his knuckles. He swayed foot to foot and forced a smile.

"Another time Pops."

Pops let out a discouraged sound and looked back at his snow gentleman. Pops beamed. He fixed tiny imperfections here and there, hummed to himself then stepped back.

"At least we have Theodore."

"You named him Theodore?" Mordecai finally said.

"He comes off as a Theodore, wouldn't you say?"

Theodore stood with the gray clouds above him, when Pops' hat began to glow. It was the same glow it had when Rigby scanned it. "Oh! My hat is glowing again!"

"What do you mean 'again'?" Benson said.

His eyes never left the snow man.

"Mordecai and Benson, look." Pops clasped his hands together. "It a Christmas _miracle_!"

The glow traveled from Pops hat to the snow man's head, to the snow man's middle section, to the snow man's bottom… It's face contorted, it's arms spun.

The edges of the snow man sharpened and a mouth formed.

The snow man grew taller and taller until it was three stories high.

And it smiled.

"Happy Christmas!" Theodore announced.

Benson and Mordecai blinked up at it.

"Oh! Theodore's alive! Theodore's alive! God bless us, everyone!"

Theodore looked down at the three of them with his smile, and Pops smiled back. He ran up to Theodore and hugged at part of his bottom. "Now you can teach us the meaning of friendship!"

The minute Pops made contact with Theodore, his whole demeanor changed. The smile turned vicious and his whole body glowed an eerie golden glow, his rounded twig fingers became daggers. His teeth were no longer shiny and cheerful but yellow and gnashing. Mordecai backed away slowly. Benson hissed to Pops in a whisper: "Pops! Pops we need to say goodbye to Theodore now."

Pops hugged the snow man tighter. "Oh Theodore. You've got such a jolly soul."

"Pops. Get away from Theodore."

"Gentlemen! Join me and Theodore in a hug!"

"Pops Theodore's looking pretty… Evil… I think you should listen to Benson…"

Theodore roared and that was the moment Benson ran to grab Pops' hand. "**Everybody run**!"

Benson and Pops went left while Mordecai ran right. Pops was incredibly light so Benson was just dragging him along as he was searching searching searching for cover or a hiding place or something he and Pops had to get out of the snow man's sight. The house was too far away.

_Greenhouse! Get to the greenhouse! _

Benson hauled Pops and himself towards the greenhouse but the snow was so deep, something he hadn't noticed before but he became dreadfully aware of when he noticed Theodore was getting closer and closer. The two men reached the greenhouse door and Benson pulled the handle but it wouldn't open it wouldn't open no matter how hard Benson pulled it was locked-shit!- and Theodore was so close Benson hastily reached inside his coat and realized-shit!- the keys weren't in his pocket.

He dropped them when he was running.

"Stay here!" Benson yelled to Pops as he backtracked.

Mordecai panicked and ran as fast as he could until he was out of breath and his chest heaved. Theodore wasn't following him, rather looking for Benson and Pops with fiery eyes and wooden claws drawn and just when Mordecai felt safe enough to run back to the house and call the police? No. Skips! Call Skips, he saw Benson looking around in the snow and Theodore caught sight of him and Mordecai yelled out to warn Benson but Theodore screeched like a hellion and bent down to snatch him up. Mordecai didn't know how but he was next to and pushed Benson out of the way in a matter of seconds as the snow man got angrier and angrier he seemed to get taller and taller Benson and Mordecai laid in the snow and Mordecai screamed at Benson for walking around in the snow like there wasn't a giant homicidal snow man trying to kill them.

"The keys! The keys to the greenhouse, I can't find them!"

Theodore didn't seem to have the best hearing because Benson screamed at the top of his lungs and still couldn't find them. Mordecai stood and helped Benson up as he ordered him.

"There's a spare key above the door! Ran back I'll distract him!"

Benson didn't have the chance to protest the plan as Mordecai ran up to the snow man and kicked him, causing it to look down and try to snatch up Mordecai but he ran at the last second Theodore chased after him on a wave of snow as Benson felt his heart pound against his ribs he ran to the greenhouse door felt around for the spare key opened the door and shoved Pops inside and closed the door behind him.

"Why is Theodore acting like **this**?" Pops cried.

Benson searched around the greenhouse interior for anything anything at all to kill the snowy bastard but all he saw were empty bottles Pops would decorate the snow salt and the asshole plants staring back at him.

"Sunshine's back everybody!"

The plants laughed and did the whole spiel again. Benson ignored them and paced around like a mad man.

He had a flashback to high school, chemistry class.

"Pops! Get those bottles, rip open that bag of snow salt and start filling them up!"

"Why?"

"Just _do_ it!"

Benson ran and opened the greenhouse door to gather clumps of snow in his hands as Pops filled the bottles with the snow salt and put snow in the bottles already filled with snow salt. Benson was too captivated by everything to notice Mordecai was playing a lethal game of tag with Theodore. Mordecai would dodge right as Theodore went left and he could see the burning rage in the snow man's eyes as he evaded capture kicking him and the outside of the snow beast felt hard and compact, unbreakable. Though he couldn't hear at all or see well it turned out he was always a step I ahead of him Mordecai was fast though as fast a cracked out jack rabbit but Mordecai tripped himself up and Theodore was a hair away from Mordecai's head when he felt himself being lifted up and carried by a hulking white blur.

Skips yelled to Mordecai, over Theodore's horrible howls, "What the _hell_ are you doing out here? And where's Benson?"

"What are _you_ doing here? And he and Pops are in the greenhouse!"

Skips dashed towards the greenhouse with Mordecai over his shoulder and Theodore gained on them as he grew larger with every step Skips broke the lock to the door and made it just before Theodore would have ended them.

"Skips! Thank God!" Benson gathered the snow salt bottles on a counter near the daises.

"Oh! Check Sunshine's butt buddy!" The leader fichus wolf whistled.

"What's the plan?" Skips said as he began to help Pops fill up bottles.

Benson took off his gloves and pulled some matches from his back pocket.

"We're filling these bottles with snow salt and water, then we're gonna watch that frosty asshole blow to snowflakes," Benson growled. He glanced outside through the glass walls to see Theodore circling the greenhouse. Waiting. "We're gonna need a lot of bottles."

"Why don't we just take Pops' hat off of him? The hat seemed to bring him to life, maybe it will stop him!" Mordecai said as Benson dumped a crate full of complaining rosemary over and started to put bottles in.

"If you wanna get close enough to that monster to knock the hat off be my _freakin'_ guest."

As Benson, Skips and Pops handled the bottles Mordecai did not have confidence in the plan at all. But he went along with it anyway.

"I'll bring a cart around!"

Mordecai ran out the greenhouse as Skips lugged the crate to the door Mordecai careened to the door Benson and Pops hopped into the cart and Skips went on top with the cart with the crate and the four drove haphazardly towards the snow man as it seemed to glide over to them.

"Shake up the bottles and take aim, Skips!"

Skips did as he was told and shot for Theodore's open mouth one, two, four, eight, twelve fizzing bottles made it in but it didn't stop.

"Mordecai! Pops! You do the same!"

Mordecai and Pops shot eight bottles into Theodore but he still kept coming.

Benson shot in two bottles and when it seemed the snow man wouldn't stop Mordecai turned the wheel hard so at the last minute the cart skidded to the side and flipped throwing everyone to the snowy ground and Theodore went after them but stopped himself. Theodore recovered a bit and reached for them again but froze mid reach. A loud rumbling could be heard and Theodore began to shake violently.

It roared in pain and it's exterior seemed to crack apart like glass, until finally the giant snow man exploded.

They braced themselves for impact.

Snowflakes softly fell and the sky cleared, the sun shined and Theodore was nothing more than a lump of snow.

Benson was the first to pop up from the overturned cart. He blinked away his dizziness.

"Is everyone okay? Pops, Mordecai, Skips? You alright?"

"I'm fine." Pops said, clearly in pain. The golf cart pinned him down.

Mordecai popped up from the snow just then. He didn't know whether he was up or down, awake or unconscious.

_We just blew up a three story tall snow man. _

Mordecai garnered the strength to pull his whole body out of the snow and let out a strangled breath before he collapsed on his back.

As soon as he fell down, he made eye contact with Benson, who he was lying side by side with.

Awkwardness ensued.

Benson stared with wide eyes at how close their faces were, and Mordecai tried to turn his head but his neck seemed to not want to, forcing him to stay facing Benson.

Skips popped up from the snow finally and rushed over to get the cart off of Pops.

Benson and Mordecai were still oddly close. They sat upwards, turned away from each other and dusted the snow off of themselves.

"Great bottle idea." Mordecai breathily said. He was still shaken up.

Benson swallowed hard. "Thank you."

Suddenly, Theodore's head rebuilt itself and leapt towards Benson with it's mouth gaping and knife teeth showing Benson screamed out and closed his eyes, awaiting Theodore's wrath…

It never came.

Instead he ended up staring hysterically at a pile of snow that landed on his lap.

Mordecai held onto Pops hat, afraid it would get away from him somehow.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"You sure you guys don't need me to stay?" Skips said.

Mordecai and Pops sat on the couch with their legs on the coffee table. Mordecai smiled up at Skips and waved him off.

"Skips, Benson told you already. We're good. We'll just avoid playing in the snow for awhile. Go back to your spiritual retreat thingy."

"Are you good?"

Pops was enthralled by the red-faced Mean British Chef. Mordecai was too busy being chased by a bats hit snow demon to remember it came on that night.

"We're excellent."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

"I don't mind cutting my vacation short."

"Benson!"

"Go enjoy your vacation, Skips!" Benson yelled from upstairs.

Skips uneasily swayed, but ultimately left, grunted a goodbye and left through the back door.

Mordecai heard time and space rip where Skips went back to where he came.

"So why is this called 'Mean British Chef'?" asked Pops, looking at Mordecai innocently.

"_What the 'ell is the matter you with all? You call yourselves cooks? I call you filthy swine!" British Chef flipped a table over, letting the eight contestants dishes fly into the air. _

"That's why."

"How peculiar."

Mordecai and Pops watched in silence. They were so focused on the enraged European they didn't notice Benson come down the stairs, medium sized box in hand. He wore that mysteriously obtained flannel shirt and jeans, though he still felt so _exposed_.

"Ah-hmm." Benson cleared his throat.

The two men didn't notice.

"Ah- hmm-hmm." Benson cleared his throat again.

They didn't even blink.

"Hey uh," Benson shrank when they finally gave him attention. "Look what I have."

Pops clapped his hands and Mordecai grinned at his boss.

"The pictures!" Pops hopped in his spot on the couch as Benson brought the box over and put it on the coffee table.

"I thought that was full of your records and stuff?"

Benson explained, "Not all of it. The rest are some miscellaneous pictures I took during my college years."

Benson sat Indian style on the couch next to Mordecai (_It was the only space available. Damn._) and opened up the box. Pops greedily searched around and took out two things at a time. Mordecai gazed in wonder at Benson's items. Genesis, Asia records littered around. Willow tree upon willow tree was present, just as Pops promised. Other pictures, of a younger long haired Benson with a bunch of friends were amongst the willows, and Mordecai couldn't help but notice all of them had an instrument.

"Benson… Were you in a band?"

"It was barely a band." Benson rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "We performed crappy covers of Journey songs and wrote even crappier original songs."

Mordecai saw how the long haired Benson was laughing heartily with three other human guys his age. They were at a dimly lit club and they were obviously, _obviously_ wasted.

But the important thing was, Benson was laughing.

Actually laughing!

"Mordecai loves Journey!" Pops excitedly announced. Mordecai looked at him confusedly.

Benson laughed quietly to himself, and said under his breath,

"Then you probably would have hated us."

"Don't be so sure."

Mordecai responded to Benson unintentionally, and they caught each other's eyes for a brief moment. Pops took notice of this, and yawned loudly.

"Oh my! Look at the time! I've got to get up early and practice my piano exercises. Goodnight dear friends!"

"Pops it's only six-" Benson said after the older gentleman, but Pops was already slamming his door upstairs. "PM…"

Benson twiddled his thumbs in his lap as Mordecai studied the back of the picture from earlier.

**B.E.A.T., 1988**

**Ulysses Bar & Grill **

"Was that the name of your band? B.E.A.T?" Mordecai asked.

Benson nodded and said nothing else.

Mordecai scratched his arm and looked down at the carpet. Benson continued with the thumb twiddling. He glimpsed over to Mordecai and mumbled.

"Thank you for earlier. With the whole, hat thing."

"No problem. No problem at all. Couldn't sit by and watch a snowman head eat you."

Mordecai awkwardly chuckled. Benson forced himself to laugh.

"No. I guess you couldn't."

Mordecai slowly said, unsure if he should say it, "Is that why… Is that why you're showing me what's inside your box?"

Benson sighed, rolled his shoulders back.

"Well yes. And no. Maybe?…" He released a sharp, yelping laugh.

"Nevermind. You don't have to answer that. I'm being an asshole. Sorry."

"No, no!" Benson said with is hands up. He took a deep breath, and started over again. "I've just realized. That lately I've been a bit… Corrosive."

'No shit! You think?' is what Mordecai wanted to say. But he always hated people that interrupted apologies just to make the other person feel more like crap.

It must have taken Benson all of the emotional strength in the world to admit that.

"And I apologize for demeaning you. And flipping out about the picture. And ripping out all of the phones. And the rule list… And giving away your weed to passersby when you were out at the coffee shop."

"What? Do you know how much-" Mordecai stopped himself from ruining the moment. Benson was cringing. He let it go, and nodded his head. "That's okay. I don't even smoke that much anymore." Mordecai lied.

"And I guess I'm sorry about the phone call thing. And the laziness. And the digging into your personal business. That was rude of me."

They both knew Benson wanted to verbally agree, but he settled for an enthusiastic head nod. Benson offered his hand and Mordecai takes it.

"You were just curious." Benson sighed.

Mordecai could tell Benson was tired.

The two men shook and formed an unspoken truce, and Benson felt a weight that's wasn't there before partially lift off of him. He just had to get rid of the rest.

"And I don't think you faked being run over."

Mordecai stared stunned at Benson.

"_Really_?"

"I thought you did. At first. But after thinking about it, and really getting to know that Jerry McGuire guy…" Benson trailed off.

He happened to glance at the television, but it wasn't playing Mean British Chef anymore.

It was breaking news, breaking news was usually bad and the marble chinned broadcaster seemed to be in a really _good_ mood.

A _ridiculously_ good mood.

"_Today, in the lower east side of the city, a young woman was another victim of the Throat Ripper… Killer… Guy. That's his name?" He asked someone off camera. "Yeah. Okay! The young woman named Lorelei Townsend was found outside of her family's furnished estate with her body horribly mutilated. Specifically, her entire throat ripped clean out. The entire scene was grisly." He said somberly. Then he perked up. "Here's some pictures!" _

Lorelei's body was splayed all over the street with her red hair wild. Benson tried not think about the way Lorelei's eyes were wide open and seemed to stare into the CSI's camera, or how she was wearing the necklace he last saw her in.

Benson stood up and kneeled in front of the TV.

"_Police say there's no leads yet, or evidence to speak of… But! Oh! They're noticing similarities in the victims. They were all wearing flashy expensive jewelry. Looks like all that glitters gets your throat ripped out. Hey-oh! Anyone? Anyone? Ah, you people need to lighten up. Here's Jill Meyers with the weather." _

Benson's eyes shone and he felt the room get cold.

"Benson? What's wrong?…"


	12. Chapter 12

Benson was at the computer the following two weeks.

Pops and Mordecai would look between themselves and their boss, concerned about his psychological well-being.

Lorelei's lifeless body was on every major news channel (And Jewish Life Television; Lorelei's family was very prominent in the Jewish community) and it seemed everyone asked the same question over and over again.

"_Who killed the young woman with the wild red hair?" _

Benson watched the same depressing special with previous victims of the Throat Ripper… Guy… When the first murder was. Where. Predictions on where he'll strike next. And the victims were all indeed wealthy. They had all also been men. Until recently.

It was Saturday morning, ten in the morning, and Benson was watching Lorelei's father's tearful call to justice when Pops brought him a strawberry strudel.

"Ah. Thanks Pops."

"You're quite welcome." Pops grinned. His expression became solemn when he saw Lorelei's father, and the way Benson was focused so attentively on the little screen. "Aren't you tired of watching this, Benson?"

Benson weakly shook his head no. "I just want to know what happened to her."

Benson was also curious about this murderer. The Townsends lived close and all of the murders were near each other. Benson felt he had every right to be worried.

Not that Benson brought that up in front of _Pops_, of all people.

Pops sadly nodded then asked, "Was she your friend Benson?"

The video stopped with a freeze frame of Thomas Townsend. His tears streamed down, and his face twisted in agony.

Benson only saw Lorelei twice and her murder was tragic, but at the end of the day, he only felt pity. The kind you feel when someone who knows someone dies and you feel bad, yeah, but. You didn't _know _them. It doesn't really impact you.

He felt a tug at his heart.

_She was __**so**__ young._

Benson wished he could have told him something else. Like, 'Lorelei and me were the best of friends' or 'Lorelei and me? Oh we go **way** back' or something like, 'I've loved Lorelei since the day we met'.

But all of that would have been lies.

"No."

Pops tilted his head. "I understand." Benson really, really doubted that he did.

Still clad in his sky blue pajamas and night cap, the older man became inexplicably excited.

"Are you still moving some boxes from your apartment?"

"Uh… Yeah. But it's only like, two boxes, Pops. I'll be in and out in a flash." Benson reassured him.

"Oh that's dandy! But um… I just wanted to inform you that Mordecai wanted to help."

Benson felt himself grimace.

"Why?"

"Mordecai's just a good person."

Benson became absorbed with Lorelei's murder for another reason. Mordecai and him were making an awkward transition from hated employer/employee to… Not friends. Too intimate. Acquaintances? That still sounded too close.

Benson and Mordecai were… What's between hating someone and tolerating them? Whatever it was, that's where they were.

"I don't think-"

"Mordecai has done everything you've asked of him! And, quite frankly Benson, he's done a wonderful job of dealing with you-"

Benson narrowed his eyes.

"You… You-r demands!"

"I just want to do this by myself Pops. But you can tell Mordecai I said thanks."

"But you do everything by yourself." Pops said quietly, looking at the floor.

Benson went into his email. Two new messages.

"That way I'll never be disappointed."

Benson remembered days before, him and Mordecai shaking hands, reaching a compromise.

Mordecai grabbing the hat _just _in time.

But that didn't mean Mordecai was his new best friend, or something.

Pops frowned. "Mordecai is an intelligent, warm, hilarious, considerate, insightful, tall… He likes Journey!"

"You told me Pops."

Benson didn't see how Mordecai's taste in music had to do with anything.

The first email was from Skips. He was asking if everything was alright, that he tried to call and no one answered. Benson felt a great sense of chagrin, after he remembered what he had done to the phones of the house. Benson wrote out an explanation/apology.

"And he told me he'd love to see the rest of your band things and doo-dads."

The second one was from an unknown contact. Benson opened it, expecting it to be some male enhancement advertisement.

It was much, much worse.

Everything was swirling in Benson's head and he felt dizzy. Damn Mordecai and his newfound respect for him. It was all so much simpler when they hated each other.

Does Mordecai still hate him? Saving someone's life doesn't mean you like them. Not that Benson gave a rat's ass.

"My band doo-dads…" Benson was reading the email.

_I'd love to meet up sometime. Saturday at 6 sound good? _

"Will you at least consider it Benson? It could really lighten your spirits."

"Pops, that'll have to wait. Until tomorrow."

The strawberry strudel Pops and brought him was definitely cold by then. Pops tilted his head like a curious puppy.

"Why is that?"

_I don't even… Why… Jesus __**Christ**__._

Benson didn't answer. He just leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Pops knocked on Mordecai's door softly and came right in afterwards, not even asking if he could.

Mordecai thanked every deity that Pops hadn't come in thirty minutes earlier.

It would have been a traumatic experience for everyone involved.

Mordecai said, as he readjusted his glasses, "Pops, you really gotta wait after you knock on someone's door."

"My apologies Mordecai." Pops said.

He was wearing his black coat and mittens. "I'm leaving the house now, and I've come to say farewell."

"Where are you and Benson going?"

"_I'm_ accompanying Don and Eileen to the aquarium. Benson is in his room, listening to his records."

Mordecai's eyes widened a little.

"So you're walking to Don's? All by _yourself_?"

"It'll be fun! Don and Eileen offered and I just had to get out of the house. Get out of you and Benson's way."

"What?" Mordecai said, sort of laughing at how that sounded.

"I meant…" Pops said with a nervous giggle. "All this talk of that poor redheaded woman is quite depressing." Pops got closer to Mordecai, with a grin Mordecai didn't completely trust. "I think we all should try and take our minds off of it. You and Benson have fun!"

"Pops… Why do you-"

But Pops bounced out of Mordecai's room with a "Tah-tah!" and started singing a stupid song about deep breaths and lingering touches in the dark.

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

It was four thirty, Mean British Chef didn't come on that night, and Mordecai was officially bored beyond measure.

Rigby wasn't available. He had gotten frighteningly serious about the MWAT lessons, and he wouldn't talk to Mordecai outside of party planning. The little dude was VERY excited for it.

Margaret had been busy cuddling with that Keith guy, but promised to hung out with him Wednesday. Mordecai counted the minutes.

So there he was in his room when it occurred to him. Benson had a **shit-ton **of classic eighties music in a brown box. But not just classic eighties music. Oh no.

THE classic eighties. The best!

What the hell was he lazing around for?

"Benson, hey!" Mordecai joyfully knocked on Benson's room door.

Mordecai could hear his boss walk up to the door. Benson opened up and he… Honestly? Benson looked a little sick.

"Hello Mordecai." said Benson slowly. "What can I do for you?"

"I. Uh. Was gonna ask you if we can put on some Asia… But dude. You look like you're gonna blow chunks."

Benson eyes squinted, as if he was in pain and using his eyes made it hurt worse. "Do I?"

"Yeah. Really."

"I'm a little… I'm a lit-" " Benson stopped talking out of nowhere and closed his eyes.

Mordecai looked on with worry. He wondered if he should have gotten a trash bin if Benson did throw up. But just as Mordecai was about to ask if he wanted him to, Benson put a hand over his mouth whilst making gagging noises and pushed Mordecai out of his way. Mordecai followed Benson and stopped outside the open bathroom door to stare at him, bent over the toilet and puking his guts out.

Mordecai waited until the heaves subsided to ask Benson, "Everything okay?"

Benson spat in the toilet one last time and bitterly laughed. He pointed to himself.

"Do I _look _okay?"

"No need to get snippy… But when you throw up two days worth of dinner I think I need to ask questions."

Mordecai didn't dare step inside the bathroom. He was sort of grossed out, and Mordecai always hated it when people crowded him when he threw up. He wanted to give Benson the courtesy.

Benson laid his head on the toilet seat. It calmed him down; it made him not want the one thing he couldn't have.

"Pops already left?"

"Yeah… Like an hour ago."

Mordecai thought is was weird Benson was thinking about Pops at that particular moment.

Benson closed his eyes tight.

"I throw up… When I'm really nervous." Benson said painfully.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's alright."

Benson sounded as if he was falling asleep.

"Hmm-hmm. What's making you so nervous?"

Benson inhaled loudly. "Nothing I care to talk about. With you especially."

"If you talk to me about it, maybe I can help."

Benson said, a hand over his face, "Oh please…"

"No really! Even if I can't do much it will feel good to let it out."

Benson opened his eyes.

Mordecai saw the eyes again. The familiar yet unknown emotion was there; the one they had when Benson was freaking out about the willow tree picture.

_Not sad or angry now that I think about it… Depressed? _

Benson sat up slowly.

"It's an ex of mine."

Mordecai laughed loudly. "Really dude? That's all? Dude! That's nothing to be nervous about. What she do to work you up so bad?"

Mordecai, unbeknownst to him, had said something wrong. Benson frowned. He got up, went over to the sink and rinsed out his mouth. When he spat the water out, Benson came back up and glanced at Mordecai.

"They want to meet up with me. After _so_ many years."

"Did the relationship end on bad terms?"

"I… I really shouldn't be talking to you about this." Benson shook his head. "But yes. It-and… The band was… I _really_ shouldn't be talking to you about this."

"Sorry if I'm being a nosy asshole again, but I think you should talk to me about this. Whatever 'this' is."

"Why?"

Mordecai tilted his head with a lopsided smile.

"Is it so **hard** to believe I want to help you out of the goodness of my heart?"

Mordecai saw all Benson's body tense from head to toe.

"_Mordecai's just a good person." _

For some odd reason or another, that bit of himself… That bit of Benson Skips didn't even know until _years _of knowing him, came out of him like the vomit from earlier. He didn't know why then, or why to Mordecai of all people… But Skips was always urging him to be more open to people.

"I'm. Gonna have to tell you something about myself. In order for you to help."

Mordecai stood confidently. "Bring it."

Benson wringed his hands. He stared down at the bathroom floor, but then decided, 'No, no, look in his eyes. Look in his eyes when you say this.'

"When I say ex… When I say ex, Mordecai. I mean ex-" Benson said the last part inaudibly.

"What, dude? Didn't hear that last word."

Benson had to say this as to not freak Mordecai out.

"Ex-**boyfriend**. Mordecai."

And there it was. The words tumbled from Benson's mouth and he knew right then they couldn't be unsaid. Not that he would have wanted them to be. He wasn't ashamed or embarrassed. But he never felt every one of his employees had the right to know.

Benson waited for the reaction, no matter how disgusted or violent or panicked. And prepared to defend himself verbally if need be. He observed Mordecai for the longest time. Then…

Mordecai just shrugged.

"Right. So are you gonna go?"

Benson's eyes enlarged and he felt his mouth go agape. "Did. Did you hear me?"

"I think you should totally go. I mean, you never know. He could be balding and fat! That'll cheer you up!"

"My ex-boyfriend, Mordecai. A guy. A man. Not a woman."

"We gotta make up a kick-ass story for what you've been doing all this years. Picture this… Are you ready? Bounty hunter."

"I tell you I'm gay and all you can do is **shrug**?" Benson hissed.

Mordecai smiled awkwardly and shrugged again. "Stop shrugging god damn it!"

"Ha-ha! What do you want me to _say_? Do you want some applause? Maybe a 'congratulations', perhaps?"

"I'd like something more than a pathetic raise of your shoulders!"

"I'm… Sorry?"

"I mean. You're completely indifferent! It's as if…" Benson stepped in front of Mordecai and pointed a finger. "Did you _already_…?"

Mordecai almost shrugged again, but apparently he wasn't allowed. He simply bit his lower beak and chuckled slightly.

"We just _assumed_."

Benson felt his right eye twitch. "WE?"

"Me, Rigby, Muscle Man, Fives. We noticed you didn't really date. And we've never seen you with a woman… It was High Five Ghost you suggested the gay theory. We decided amongst ourselves that was the most probable."

Benson grinded his teeth. He put his hands on his hips and stared Mordecai down with resentment.

"I don't know what I'm angrier at. The fact my sexuality is the topic for juvenile gossip, or the fact that when I don't flaunt my sexuality you all just **assume** I'm gay."

"It's not like our assumption was wrong!"

Benson made a face. Mordecai rubbed the back of his head.

"If it helps, we originally thought you were asexual."

Mordecai offered a consolation smile, but Benson continued to scowl.

"And this isn't a big deal to you?" Benson said.

Mordecai thought that was stupid to say, of course he was okay with Benson, he had no problem with it. But it was important to say it out loud, so Benson knew.

"Of course not." Mordecai said. "Sexuality shouldn't be a big deal to _anyone_. But really. Would you care if I thought it was?"

Benson considered this for a moment. He concluded that, no. It didn't matter at all.

"Well. Now your assumptions are confirmed."

He threw up his hands. Mordecai moved out of the doorway so Benson could leave. Mordecai followed him, again, and when Benson noticed he turned around with a huff.

"What do you want, Mordecai?"

"Are you going to meet up with him?"

"No, I'm not going to meet up with him!"

Benson went into his room, but paused once he was inside to warn Mordecai, "If you come in here I'm murdering you and making it look like a heart attack."

"Benson. Obviously there are some unresolved issues between you two. Don't you want to fix it?"

Benson appeared to think about it.

"Nah."

"Would you feel better about it if I went with you?"

"That would make the situation worse!"

Benson went to close the door, but Mordecai stuck his foot out at the last second.

"What if I paid you?"

"Seriously? You're gonna _pay_ me to see my ex-boyfriend?"

"Seriously."

"Any money you give me is technically _my_ money. I pay you, remember?"

Benson tried to push the door closed, but damn! Mordecai was stronger than he looked.

"Then I'll borrow thirty dollars from Don or whatever. Will you go then?"

"I wouldn't see Al for **thirty thousand **dollars." Benson said in a low angry voice.

"Who the hell is Al?"

"That's his name. Albert."

"That's a shame." Mordecai grimaced. "What if… What if I did something for you?"

"Ha! Like what?"

Mordecai pulled the door open against Benson's pushing it closed. He opened just enough to see Benson's face.

"I can kill the plants for you."

Benson slammed the door shut and opened it up seconds later, fully dressed in his yellow coat and new black scarf.

"Get in the car."

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Benson drove his car up to the curb. Al had wanted to meet at some Starbucks knock-off, and Benson complied.

"Aw. We could've gone to the Coffee Shop!"

"I'm here to see _my_ ex. Not yours." Benson rolled his eyes.

He unbuckled himself and got up from the driver's seat, but gave Mordecai the death glare when he went to open the passenger side door.

"What?"

"You stay in the car."

"What? I thought I was gonna be, y' know. Moral support."

"You can support me by making sure no one steals my car."

"That sucks! And what if the car jackers just kill me and take the car anyway?"

Benson got out of the car and bent over to face Mordecai on his level.

"That's a risk you're just gonna have to take."

"Benson! C'mon!"

Benson slammed the door closed but Mordecai's complaints could still be heard through the glass windows.

He looked around himself, as if he didn't want anyone see him enter the place.

It was actually quite spacious inside. Dimly lit, earthy color scheme and noisy with chatter. Benson scanned the inside and searched for Al.

He didn't really search that hard though. He moved his head to the right, then the left, and finally told himself Al was a no-show and decid-

"Ben!"

_Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! All the shit in the world!_

Benson forced himself to smile. "Al! Hey!"

"Almost didn't think you were gonna make it!"

Al was a tall human man with tattoos running down both arms. He had short brown hair (_Not balding_) and wore a plain gray t-shirt with boot cut jeans (_Not fat at all. In incredible shape actually. Shit!) _

Benson was wrapped up in Al's arms. As much as he hated the man, he wanted nothing more but to sink into him.

All the bullshit they went through washed away, and the 'Screw You, Look At Me Now' speech he had been planning got really hard to recall, forget about recite.

Instead he remembered Al's calming touch, and the way he always pressed up against him when they hugged (like they were doing then) and how he hadn't had sex in **months. **

"Well... I made it."

Benson punched Al on his arm (_His tone, muscular arm!_) and Al just laughed. He probably barely even felt it.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"I don't…" Benson began, but remembered that they were at a _coffee_ shop and Al didn't mean it like that. "Sure. Sure, thanks."

Benson got a frappuchino and Al didn't get anything. Benson remembered he only went into coffee houses because Benson liked coffee. They sat at a table near the huge window and were quiet.

Al just… Looked at him. Benson stir his coffee with the straw and occasionally look out the window. He didn't want to look at Al. Or his eyes. Especially his eyes.

Breaking the awkward silence, Al started laughing out of no where.

Benson glared.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing! Just…" Al calmed his laughter. "You've grown up."

Benson didn't know how he was supposed to take that.

"Well yeah. The last time you saw me I was nineteen."

"No I mean… You give off this 'grown up' aura."

Al outlined Benson's body with his fingers. Benson glared harder.

"Are you high?"

"Ha! Still a smartass I see!" Al chortled again.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Al licked his lips (_I didn't see that. No, sir. Didn't see that at all_.) and sighed happily.

"How have you been, Ben?"

"I've been fine."

"And how's the park job going? Still cleaning out rain gutters?"

"Was promoted to manager four years ago."

"Cool beans."

Benson nodded stiffly. "How's your mo-"

"Don't ask." Benson laughed bitterly. "Please don't ask."

Al lips formed a straight line.

"I'm just gonna assume she's the same."

"Mhmm."

The coffee was doing nothing for Benson. He just wanted to get the hell out of there, go home, put some Genesis on and call it a night.

"Well I just wanted to see how things were going for you, if you were alright and… Ask if you were doing anything next week?"

A few moments earlier, Mordecai sat in Benson's car. He played with the door of the glove compartment until he decided that was stupid.

"This blows. I could've stayed home and been equally bored." Mordecai said out loud to no one.

It was getting hot inside the car, which was weird because it was winter and snow covered the ground. Mordecai eventually got out of said car so he could free his nostrils of the horrible middle aged man smell.

He leaned against the car and saw straight through the shop window. Benson and that Albert dude were talking. Well, the other dude was laughing and Benson was giving him a bitchy face.

"Mordecai?"

Mordecai turned around surprised to meet Margaret face to face.

"Margaret!"

Mordecai hugged her tightly and Margaret hugged back. "Mordecai what are you doing here?"

"Uh," Mordecai chuckled slightly. "I'm here with a… Just hanging out. I heard this place is the new Starbucks." Mordecai said, gesturing to the shop with his head.

"Cheating on the Coffee Shop with this place eh?"

Margaret smirked. Mordecai resisted the urge to cringe at Margaret's choice of words.

"No! Just hanging out. The Coffee Shop can never be replaced."

They shared a smile that was much too intimate… Until the man next to Margaret, who'd been silent the whole time they were speaking, fake coughed.

"Oh! Mordecai, this is my boyfriend, Stanley."

"Sup." Stanley nodded his head at Mordecai.

"Stanley? What happened to Austin?"

"Austin was a Tea Partier. I was not putting up with that. Stanley's an anarchist democrat. And he loves dogs."

"I **freakin'** love dogs." Stanley said, he leaned in and kissed Margaret possessively.

_You, me and fifty percent of the American population, you dip shit. _

Mordecai said, a bit condescending, "An anarchist _and_ a democrat… Isn't that a little contradictory?"

Stanley's hands formed fists. Mordecai swore… (And he knew it sounded like an exaggeration. But Stanley got so **red**.) Mordecai swore the dude was gonna burst into flames.

"Your _face_ is contradictory."

Margaret hit Stanley's arm. "Mordecai's my friend Stanley. Don't be an asshole."

"It's okay Margaret. I should get going…"

"Oh Mordecai don't go yet! Me and Stanley were gonna go to that old bar. The one named after one of the presidents. Do you want to join us?"

"I'd love to!" Mordecai said smiling like crazy, but Stanley's crazy red color reappeared.

"On second thought, I'm just gonna hang out here some more. Perfect my hipster stance."

Mordecai crossed his arms and bobbed his head to the beat in his mind. Margaret giggled.

"Aw. Well. See you later then."

Margaret gave Mordecai a kiss on the cheek and left with her arm entwined with Stanley's.

_Ugh. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. _

Stanley amazingly glowered at Mordecai as he and Margaret left, and Mordecai knew that that time, Stanley was _literally_ red.

A bad feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach, and Mordecai went inside the shop to distract himself from the ominous sensation.

Meanwhile, Benson's eyes became the size of the moon. "Uh… Why, why do you ask?"

"What would you say, if I said that I got in touch with Ed and Tim? And after that, what would you say if I told you that they wanted to do a reunion show? "

It took a moment to sink in. When it finally did, Benson squeaked. Embarrassingly enough.

"What do I say? What the _hell_ do I say? I'd say yes, you dumbass!"

"Really?"

"Of course!"

"Why are you guys so excited?"

Mordecai said. He had come in quiet a as hit man and sat next to Benson.

"B.E.A.T's doing a reunion show!" Benson squealed as he grabbed onto Mordecai's arm, then realized **he was grabbing onto Mordecai's arm**. "Ah! What are _you_ doing in here? I told you to stay in the _friggin'_ car!"

"It got hot! I wasn't going to suffocate in a station wagon!" Mordecai defended himself. "Lamest death ever."

"Hello. Who's this Benson?" Al said, his lips turned upwards in amusement.

Benson said through clenched teeth, "No one. No one at all. He was just leaving."

"I'm Mordecai."

Mordecai offered his hand and Al shook it. "Albert Hanna."

Mordecai thought about it, and remembered Al as the tallest guy in Benson's old band picture. He looked better in the present, he dared to think.

"B.E.A.T is getting back together? Awesome!"

"Benson's told you 'bout us?"

"Not much. But I'd love to hear you guys."

"And I'd love to have a golden toilet. Go. Back. To. The. Car!"

"Why? I'm already in here! You can't pretend I don't exist."

"Doesn't mean I can't try." Benson growled.

Al shook his head with a huge grin on his face.

"Next week at our favorite bar. You know the one, Benson."

"Yeah I know."

Benson furrowed his eyebrows at Mordecai annoyed. Mordecai nudged him with an elbow.

"Cheer up dude! Your band's getting back together!"

"Ugh."

"Where'd you find this kid?" Al laughed at Mordecai's exhilaration.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Al hugged Benson as they all left the shop.

"It's great to see you again Ben. Can't wait to show these milennials how to play _real_ music."

Benson smiled gawkily. "Nice seeing you too."

Benson was glad out how everything turned out, (and was happy his mind no longer focused on Lorelei) but none of the issues were talked about or mentioned. He had went under the impression their past would be discussed and settled. Al was all smiles and laughs. Benson couldn't find it within himself to ruin his bright mood.

A later time perhaps. But they _would _talk about everything.

Mordecai was more ecstatic for this than he expected to be. Benson… Strict, uptight and sour Benson, was going to play in his old band Mordecai didn't even know existed. He had to get this on tape, so the next day he could tell himself it wasn't some self induced hallucination.

That tape would subsequently be shown to Rigby.

Benson and Mordecai made their way to Benson's car, when Al called out to them yards away.

"Hey Benson!"

They both looked on keenly.

Al bellowed, with his hands cupped around his mouth, "It's great to see you dating again! You two make an awesome couple."

Benson felt his body go numb, as all the blood went to his face. It felt as if the whole stopped to look at Mordecai and Benson standing next to each other, dumbfounded.

Mordecai blinked a couple of times, and soon burst into thunderous laughter.

"We're NOT-" Benson started to yell, but Al was already gone.

Benson told his feet to move but they refused. He stood motionless, cursing his rebellious limbs. Mordecai's laughing didn't help at all.

"_Shut up." _Benson barked.

"Dude! _Dude_. He thinks we're gay together!"

Mordecai tumbled to the ground laughing with his mouth open, holding his sides.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

_A/N: Welp. Last chapter until the 23rd or so. :( _

_But don't worry. It's not a "goodbye", it's a "see you later!". I'm going to Disney World, then that HP place and bringing back some Bertie Botts! Feel free to comment on the story, and on how much of a dork I am. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	13. Chapter 13

"This is for you, man."

Rigby threw the tape on Mordecai's stomach, making him propel slightly forward.

"Oof!" Mordecai took hold of the tape. "What's this?"

The two young men were in the living room. Mordecai was somewhat asleep on the sofa and Rigby had let himself in via teleportation (so he said…).

"Don said to give it to you. It's about that Jerry guy."

"Oh yeah! I needed this. Tell him thanks for me."

"Sure. Sure. Now let me tell you my real reason for stopping by." Rigby hopped up on the sofa arm away from Mordecai.

Benson had gone to pick Pops up from Don's. He had grown fond of Don and Eileen's company. Rigby however, wasn't a fan of Eileen coming over _("Aw man! Now she knows where we live!" Rigby bellyached to Don when Eileen was out of earshot.) _so he was consequently over at the park more. Mordecai didn't mind…Hell! He was happy to see Rigby. But… Something was telling him Rigby's presence would interfere.

With what, Mordecai didn't know.

"I was able to get some guys to get the drinks, and the eagle-"

"Wait. Why is someone going to bring an _eagle_?"

"It's for the party, man!"

Mordecai gave Rigby a uncertain expression.

"This is going to be the weirdest party ever." said Mordecai, rubbing his eyes.

"No dude… This is going to be the best party ever! Remember Dave's party last May?"

"Yeah, I think."

"Well _this_ party is gonna bend Dave's party over and make it it's **bitch**!" Rigby said, clasping his hands together.

"Whatever you say dude."

Mordecai got into a regular sitting position. Rigby sat next to him.

"You don't believe me." Rigby pouted. "But don't worry. That's gonna change two weeks from now. And with the MWAT classes ending this week…"

"This week? It's only the fifteenth."

Rigby shrugged. "Apparently the government is getting rid of it. Said it did more harm than good."

"That sucks."

"Not really. Lost it's spark when Eileen joined. Eh… Correction. Lost it's spark when Lou Diamond Phillips started coming in."

"Holy shit! You've **seen** Lou Diamond Phillips? On **multiple** occasions?"

Rigby had a unimpressed face. "He's full of crap. All he did is show us his movies!"

"Can I come tomorrow?" Mordecai asked, ignoring Rigby's Lou Diamond Phillips bashing.

"I guess."

"This is week is gonna be awesome. I'm gonna meet Lou Diamond Phillips and…"

Mordecai stopped himself. Rigby smiled warmly at Mordecai excitement, and gestured for him to continue. It felt… Wrong to tell Rigby about B.E.A.T's reunion. Maybe because he would have to tell Rigby about Benson's ex-boyfriend, and that would NOT be pleasant.

Rigby wasn't… A homophobe. He just.

He didn't _get_ gay people. Y'know?

"I'm taking Margaret out Wednesday."

Rigby nudged his friend in the ribs. "I see… Trying to relive old times with the ex, eh?"

"No," Mordecai's voice went up an octave, the way it usually gets when someone's lying. "Just a friendly outing."

"Which will lead to some friendly dry humping."

"Dude!" Mordecai laughed.

"Notice how you're not denying it!"

The two friends stopped messing around when they heard the door begin to open and Rigby jumped off the sofa. "Gotta go!"

Rigby disappeared into thin air, while Skips entered the living room with the same emotionless face he's had since Mordecai started working at the park.

Skips said nothing as he observed all around the house. The living room, then the kitchen, then the basement. He went upstairs as well, Mordecai could hear the doors open and close. Skips finally made his way back to the living room and grunted.

"Hello Skips."

"Hey… So Benson told you."

Mordecai was baffled for a minute, before he remembered. "That's he's…? Yeah. Yeah. I mean, it wasn't a surprise. But. Yeah. You knew?"

"I've always known… Benson's not as closed off as he'd like to think."

"Mhmm."

"What did you do to make him rip all the phones out of the house?" Skips asked.

"It was just a little prank. He sort of overreacted."

Skips nodded. "He does that."

There was a long pause.

"Did you know Benson was in a band? And that he's a photographer? A great one, actually."

"Yes." Skips said dully.

Mordecai had forgotten Skips knew everything.

Skips seemed to be listening out for something, anything, and when he couldn't hear it he continued the conversation.

"Any updates on the Lorelei girl?"

"None. Except that Jerry asshole is the Townsend's lawyer/spokesperson. I bet he probably knows the murderer."

"How was she killed?"

Mordecai scratched his head "She uh… Her throat was ripped out."

Mordecai grimaced at the thought, while Skips' eyes squinted.

"I've… Got to return to the mountains. But you call if anything new develops. And I'll leave you to check the thermostat. Exactly sixty, Mordecai."

Skips went for the door, but turned around with a with a wearer face than usual "And don't do anything impulsive."

Skips was gone into another dimension before Mordecai could ask what he meant.

Mordecai was wide awake, remembering the young EMT and how she called him dearest. He felt pain for her family, and hoped the monster that did that to her was exterminated.

Benson and Pops came in a fair amount of time later.

"Do we have a revolving door I don't know about?" Mordecai asked rhetorically.

Benson quirked an eyebrow as he took off his gloves and scarf and put them on the rack.

"Who's been here lately? No raccoons I hope."

"No…" Mordecai lied. "Skips did come in, like, an hour ago."

Benson helped Pops get his coat off. "Really? Damn. I wanted to talk to him. Pops, hang this up in your closet."

"I had the loveliest time with Don and Eileen."

Pops beamed at both Benson and Mordecai.

"That's awesome Pops." Mordecai smiled at the older man.

"We played tiddlywinks, and discussed the significance of the ferret. They are the Christopher Walkens of the animal kingdom, did you know?"

"I didn't know that. Thanks for telling us Pops." Benson said, flashing a smile at Pops.

"And they are just the sweetest couple!"

Benson and Mordecai froze.

"Don and Eileen… Are a couple?" Mordecai asked slowly. He assumed it was one of those weird things Pops said just to say.

"Yes! Of course!"

Mordecai humored the older man. "What makes you say that?"

"Every time I see them they're spending time together."

"Pops. Two people spending time together doesn't make them… _Together._"

Pops giggled. "Not necessarily, I suppose. But what if the two people spent _all_ their time with one another? Laughing, sharing feelings… Listening to music…"

"Listening to music?"

Mordecai felt the smallest of alarms go off inside his mind.

"I'm going to hang my coat now!"

Pops ran up the stairs like he was on fire, leaving Benson and Mordecai to stare stupidly at the spot where he once stood.

Benson took off his coat and sighed. "I worry about him sometimes."

"You and me both." Mordecai shook his head. "Hey."

Benson hung up the yellow coat and turned to give Mordecai his attention. Benson had no clothes that day, but he was wearing the boots that looked to big for him.

"What is it?"

"Are those boots comfortable?"

That wasn't what Mordecai wanted to ask, but those damn boots distracted him.

Benson scowled. "Are we doing the whole "Clothes Police" schtick again?"

"Just say no to polyester, Benson."

"Seriously. You should consider going into stand up. You're _hi~larious_."

Mordecai laughed at his stupid joke as Benson rolled his eyes and started to leave, but Mordecai made 'come back' hand motions.

"No, no! I uh… I have a Jerry McGuire tape thing."

Benson walked back to the sofa curious. "What about Jerry?"

"Did you know he's the Townsend's lawyer?"

Benson looked as if he was punched in the stomach.

"No. I didn't know that at all."

"Don did some research on him." Mordecai held up the tape to Benson. "And he came up with this."

"Is that the Jerry McGuire movie? I never did see it." Benson couldn't help but smirk.

"No, it's uh. I don't know."

"Why don't you just pop it in and find out?"

Mordecai could feel an inexplicable embarrassment through his body.

"I… I guess I was waiting for you."

Benson looked at Mordecai sideways, but grabbed the tape and put in the VCR. He sat down next to Mordecai and mumbled to him,

"That was weird of you."

The TV was blank for a few moments, but then it lit up with a still frame of Jerry smiling smugly and fast, violins could be heard. In Mordecai's words, it was" lawyer-y" sounding.

"_Jerry McGuire is the youngest lawyer to ever work in the city." a deep scary voice said. "Protector of the rich and famous, Mr. McGuire has never lost a case." _

_The still of Jerry went black and white when the violins made an accusing noise. _

"_But what do we __**really know **__about this Jerry McGuire?" _

_A woman with icy blonde hair and skinny glasses stepped into view. The background was all white, and she was wearing a grey pants suit. _

"_Hello. I'm Dr. Patricia." the woman said in the same deep scary voice as the announcer._

"Ew! That's **her** voice? She sounds like a du-"

"Shush!"

"_I've dedicated my life to speaking for victims and if your watching this, you have the same suspicions about Jerry McGuire that I have. Where did he come from? Why has he never lost a case? And why do his clients go free…" _

_Dr. Patricia turned to the camera and took her glasses off dramatically. _

"_When they are __**obviously **__guilty?" _

_Footage of Jerry running was seen next, as he yelled for the camera guy to stop following him. He ran inside his law firm. _

"_At the age of twenty four, Mr. McGuire defended Youri Baryshnikov, the Russian movie mogul accused of drop-kicking kittens from atop his penthouse. Here is McGuire's defense." _

_It was a courtroom, and Jerry was standing up, addressing a jury. _

"_I know there is overwhelming physical evidence of Mr. Baryshnikov's guilt… And a video tape showing him committing the animal cruelty in question… But fine, noble, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. What if I told you it was a huge misunderstanding? Mr. Baryshnikov wasn't killing kittens. He was trying out new merchandise from one of his movies!" _

Mordecai and Benson said simultaneously, "Bullshit."

"_The supposed kittens my client was seen with are flying kitten prototypes he was planning to sell to young fans of the movie __**Kittens: Midair**__. He wanted to make sure they were safe for purchase. And through his testing, he's made our children safer. Because in this day and age, our children aren't safe. Oh you may think they're safe, but they're not. What, with these violent video games nowadays, Mr. Baryshnikov wanted to give them an alternative. A soft fuzzy… __**Robotic**__ alternative. And he's being persecuted for it." _

Benson tilted his head as noticed Jerry's eyes shone with an odd color. He vaguely remembered his eyes doing the same thing when Mr. Maellard ran Mordecai over.

_The jury all nodded, and announced Baryshnikov was innocent without any deliberation. The courtroom cheered. _

"_Disturbing? Absolutely." Dr. Patricia snarled. "And for the next four years this vicious circle continued. Rich bastard after rich bastard getting at most a slap on the wrist for crimes regular people would be crucified for. But McGuire's recent case, defending sociopath/murderer Daniel Silo takes the cake. _

_A stubbly faced man sat coolly as Jerry said something to him. Jerry got up. He walked over to the judge, and simply stared up at him. And the judge nodded. _

"_Mr. Silo is sentenced to an hour in jail." _

"What? Isn't that the guy who tortured people?" Mordecai said resentfully.

"Did you see his _eyes_, Mordecai?"

Benson watched the TV. He was mesmerized.

"_As a law and order commentator," Dr. Patricia said, standing on top of a building it seemed with towers and city lights behind her. "I can see right through McGuire's methods. An hour of jail time to make Silo appear sympathetic. So __**typical**__." _

_Dr. Patricia narrowed her eyes at the camera. _

"_But what about the victims? What about the ten people Silo killed? Where is __**their**__ sympathy? You! You watching this tape, keep an eye out for Jerry McGuire. He is a snake in the grass. He is not to be trusted. In fact, stop this tape , go to his law firm across from Dina's Hats and Spats and __**demand**__ for his head." _

_The camera zoomed in on her face. "And for the love of God. Don't look into his __**eyes**__." _

The taped stopped.

Benson still stared on dumbly, and Mordecai stood up to collect the tape.

"Well this proves it. That Jerry asshole is evil."

"His eyes Mordecai…"

Mordecai studied Benson. He was so still, and distracted. Benson kept his lifeless eyes on the screen.

Mordecai snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Yo! Benson!"

"What?"

Mordecai looked between the TV and his boss.

It was one of those moments things seemed a little clearer, and two ends met.

"You were looking at Jerry's eyes."

"Yes." Benson blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to refocus. "Did you see when he was talking to the jury? And the judge?"

"No, I mean… That day when Maellard ran me over. He came up to you and you looked into his eyes."

Benson's head hurt suddenly. "We all did."

"And then you nodded. Like the judge and the jury in the tape."

"Yeah."

Benson and Mordecai were looking at each other, finishing the conclusion in their minds. Mordecai adopted an angry look on his face, and ran upstairs. "Where are you going?"

Mordecai came back down with his blue hoodie on. "I'm going to Jerry's law firm like that Patricia chick said."

Benson kneeled on the sofa. "And what are _you_ gonna do? Accuse him of having weird shining eyes?"

"What if he's like, an evil hypnotist?"

"Think about this for a second."

"No, _you_ think about this. The nodding, the eyes… The fact this guy was able to convince a **crowd of people **and the police that hobo died of a heart attack with blood splattered on Mr. Maellard's limo for the world to see… And for some reason, I think he has something to do with the killings. All of the victims came from money… He probably rubbed elbows with them… Maybe it's a string of embezzlement scams gone bad. "

"You watch one biased video tape on the guy and all of a sudden you're Scooby _freakin_ Doo?"

"Biased?" Mordecai said impatiently.

"It was pretty obvious that woman had something against Jerry."

"So you're on Jerry's side." Mordecai directed his anger at Benson. "You think he's _totally_ innocent."

"No," Benson said, offended.

"Then come with me."

"No!"

"Then you're on his side. That's fine. _Friggin'_ fine. I'll go alone."

"You know what? Go right ahead. I'm not bailing you out when they arrest your ass!"

Benson sank into the sofa as Mordecai stomped to the door and turned the knob, when a small, panicked knock came about.

"Hello? Hello, is anyone there?"

Mordecai hurriedly opened the door to see Margaret without a coat.

She held herself and crying.

"Margaret? What are you doing here? What happened?" Mordecai reached out and caressed her face.

Margaret sniffed and looked behind her.

"Me and Stanley broke up."

"I'm so sorry." Mordecai hugged her.

She let him hug her, but when Mordecai pulled back she had a terrified look on her face.

"Who's that?" Benson asked from the living room.

Mordecai ushered Margaret in and sat her down on the sofa. "You remember Margaret, Benson. Her boyfriend dumped her."

Benson gave Margaret a pitying pat on the shoulder. "My condolences Margaret."

Margaret sniffed again. "Thank you. And I dumped him."

Benson got up from the sofa and into the kitchen. He never dealt with crying well. Mordecai took his spot.

"I've never seen you so upset about a break up. You must've really liked him."

Margaret grabbed hold of Mordecai's hands. "No, Mordecai. I'm not here because of the break up. Well, I am, but… It's more than that."

Mordecai furrowed his eyebrows.

Pops came down the stairs then, and when he saw Margaret he perked up.

"Greetings Miss-" Pops started to say, but then he looked down to see Mordecai and Margaret holding hands.

Disappointment overtook his usually cheery face.

"What's going on?" Pops asked in a quiet, mousy tone.

"When I broke up with Stanley, he got… So mad. Like, really, really mad. His whole body went red and he got hot to the touch."

Mordecai stared blankly at Margaret. "He… Was hot to the touch?"

"Yeah. I tried to hold him, calm him down, but when I touched him his skin just… Burned. Then he called me a cheating whore and ran off yelling."

"I'm sorry that happened to you." Mordecai held Margaret's hands tighter.

"It was the insult hat hurt the most. Me! A cheating whore! _Me!_"

Benson came back with a wool blanket. "This is for you."

Margaret accepted gratefully. "Thank you so much sir."

"Call me Benson. And you're welcome. It's freezing out there. I can't believe you walked all this way without a winter coat."

"I had to. I had to warn you, Mordecai."

"Warn me about what?"

"When Stanley was yelling, I heard bits and pieces. And I think… I can't be sure, but I think he's going to hurt you."

Everyone in the room glanced worriedly at Mordecai. Mordecai didn't look the least bit concerned. All his attention was given to Margaret.

"Does he know where you're here? Does he know Mordecai lives here?" Benson asked.

"No. I don't think so. I didn't really talk about Mordecai with him. Except that we used to date."

Benson gave Mordecai an uneasy look. "It would be dangerous for you to leave. He could trace you back here."

"No, no. I'm putting a strain on all of you. It's best I go."

"Margaret, you can't go back out there." Mordecai moved his hands to rub up and down Margaret's arm.

"He probably followed me here. I'm putting you guys in real danger."

Margaret shook her head, but Benson opposed.

"If this Stanley guy is anything like you're other exes, we're in danger whether you stay or not. You might as well stay here until we get everything sorted out."

"You can sleep in my room." Mordecai said. "I hope that doesn't sound pervy."

Margaret blushed at Mordecai's offer.

"NO!" Pops yelled.

Everyone turned to look at him. Pops smiled guiltily. "My… Shoe is untied. Darn shoe. Ha-ha."

"Thank you all for your kindness."

"It's okay, Margaret. I… We just want you to be safe."

It felt like a special moment between Mordecai and Margaret, private and intimate and Benson felt like an intruder.

He had no idea why that bothered him.

"Me and Pops are going to… Go upstairs. Come on, Pops."

Benson went up only two stairs with Pops' hand in his because Pops didn't budge, despite Benson's best efforts.

"I think Margaret should stay in my room."

"Pops, it's already been settled. Let's go."

"Or rather, she should take the guest room."

"Then where would _I _sleep, Pops." Benson asked, amused.

"You could sleep with Mordecai."

Pops smiled. Benson's eyes widened. "Pops… That doesn't sound rig-"

Just then, the roof flew off in a catastrophic 'whoosh' and a gigantic ball of fire floated menacingly down to the present itself to the four individuals.

The sky turned a disgusting black and orange, and when the angry winds put them on their backs they witnessed the flaming ball take the form of a human man. Benson and Pops stared on helplessly, trapped on the stairs and in plain sight. Mordecai and Margaret held on to one another as the flaming man stepped down on carpet.

The figure pointed to a petrified Margaret.

"You cheatin' _whore!_"

The man held a fireball in his hands and let it grow, and grow, and grow until it was the size of the sofa and held it above his head.

Mordecai, without thinking, pulled himself and Margaret up and into the kitchen. The fire ball was one second away from obliterating them.

As the two ducked underneath the table, the fiery figure blasted the kitchen wall down with a wave of flames. The flames lit the table on fire and the winds the man was causing flipped it over.

"You wait one day to go back to him? **You friggin' slut**!"

Mordecai pulled Margaret closer to himself, as the man prepared another fireball.

"Who _is_ this guy?" Mordecai yelled.

Margaret observed the figure's spiky red hair and charred wife beater and didn't recognize him at first, but through the wild flames she saw a face and remembered her ordeal before coming to the park.

Margaret whispered, horrified. "It's Stanley."

Stanley produced a whip of cool fire and grabbed onto Mordecai, bringing him dangerously close to his face.

The flames were in his eyes as well.

Stanley slammed Mordecai hard against a kitchen counter. "**Fight me!**"

Mordecai was thrown off balance and fell to his knees. The heat radiating from Stanley burned him worse and worse as he approached.

"Fight me for this _whore_!"

Stanley raised a fiery fist and prepared to strike Mordecai, but was distracted when a table leg hit him on the head. It burned up upon impact, and Stanley turned around to see his would be attacker.

"Let go of him! Let go of him, _now_!" Benson screeched, with another table leg in his hands.

Stanley smiled devilishly, and it was right about then Benson regretted his actions.

_Shit. _

Benson ran out of the back door and Stanley simply smashed through that wall in pursuit. Margaret and Mordecai stood up, and Mordecai screamed to her, "We have to find the fire extinguisher!"

Benson ran in zigzag patterns avoiding Stanley's fire balls, but it was quite difficult, considering the bastard had excellent aim. It was pitch-black outside, except Stanley acted like the sun, making Benson see his shadow. As his heart beat faster and his legs got heavier with every step, Stanley seemed to be getting more generous with the fireballs. He really had no plan beyond throwing those pieces of wood at Stanley, but he suddenly remembered he was running around in snow, of all things.

Benson scooped up some snow whilst running and when he felt confident enough, threw them at Stanley. Stanley was angered by this even further, but Benson did notice the target spot he hit was extinguished for a millisecond. He followed the same rhythm: Run. Scoop, throw. Run, scoop, throw. It was working thank Christ it was working, but Stanley's flames got stronger with each snowball.

Meanwhile, Mordecai frantically searched each room upstairs for the fire extinguisher.

"What do you mean you don't know where the fire extinguisher is?" Mordecai shouted at Pops.

Pops shook his head frantically. "Benson is the only one who knows where it is!"

"We don't have time for this! Stanley's going to kill Benson!" Margaret bellowed.

Margaret pointed out into the distance to see Stanley's satanic glow hover over Benson as he shot fireballs at him.

_Benson! _

"Pops, go into your room and call Skips."

Pops made fearful noises as he ran in circles. "Go, Pops!"

Pops did as he was told and Mordecai pointed to Margaret.

"Margaret! Get Stanley back here and when he's close enough, go in Pops' room and lock the door!"

"How do I-"

"You'll think of something."

Mordecai kissed her on the cheek and made a mad dash down the stairs. Margaret smiled to herself, but remembered she had something to do, that Benson was going to be barbequed.

Benson's rhythm seemed successful, but in hindsight it only made Stanley more determined to kill. Benson tripped up and fell, and at the worst possible moment because Stanley closed in with a colossal fireball, but as he was about to release they heard Margaret yelling.

"Stanley! Stanley, me and Mordecai are… Uh, making out over here!"

"You _whore_! You **cheatin' **_whore_!"

Stanley furiously flew back to the house as Benson sprinted back as well. He went through the back door in the demolished kitchen and into the basement to see Mordecai searching.

"Where's the fire extinguisher?" Mordecai shouted at Benson.

"Mordecai that's not-"

Mordecai put his hands on Benson's shoulders and shook him.

"Just tell me where the damn thing is!"

Benson sucked in his lips and angrily stared at Mordecai. "Behind the power tools."

Mordecai looked behind the power tools and-Yes! Got it!-was gone in a flash with the fire extinguisher in hand and stopped to confront Stanley in the hallway upstairs. Margaret was already gone thank God when Mordecai got positioned himself. Stanley paused and backed away from Mordecai, and he smirked as he pointed the nozzle towards Stanley and sprayed the contents.

Stanley was covered in the foamy white stuff and for a second, it looked as if he was defeated. He fell to the ground and stayed there for a few heart pounding minutes.

Until he reignited and his flames were bigger than before.

"But… I thought…"

Benson ran up half the stairs to see Stanley burning brighter, he was painful to look at.

_We need to freeze his core someway…_

Stanley laughed evilly as he burned up flying debris, and it was getting hard to breathe for Mordecai and Benson.

Stanley got ready to release a killing fireball but Benson grabbed Mordecai at the last second and they ran to the hallway that led to the basement. Stanley no longer was chasing after them, but walked boldly, as Benson looked all around for another way out.

They were trapped.

Stanley's flames settled slightly, and he sauntered up to the both of them.

"Wait!"

Stanley tilted his head. "And why are ya standin' in front of him? This ain't your fight gumball machine man!"

Benson had no idea that he was, indeed, standing in front of Mordecai. Like a living shield. He continued to stand courageously.

"Because Mordecai isn't sleeping with Margaret." Benson said, voice defiant.

"Get out of my way!"

Mordecai whispered to Benson, "What are you doing?"

"Shush." Benson hissed. He readdressed Stanley. "Did you hear me? Did you hear what I said?"

"I heard ya! I aren't stupid!" Stanley sneered.

Mordecai chuckled, and Benson punched him in the stomach. "What makes _you_ so sure he's not? Margaret's always had a thing for those hipster asshole types."

Stanley's eyes became ablaze when he glared at Mordecai.

Benson felt Mordecai's heart pound wildly.

Benson swallowed and spoke slow. "I know he's not sleeping with her… Because I know he'd never cheat on me."

Stanley completely went out, and was seemed to be his regular, douchey looking self. He looked at Benson through one eye.

"You're… You're shittin' me… You two?"

"Yes."

"Us two what?" said Mordecai confused.

"You're lying."

"But I'm not," Benson said.

Stanley advanced, but Benson backed himself and Mordecai up against the basement door.

"You don't look it."

"I know."

"Neither does he." Stanley motioned to Mordecai.

"I don't look what?"

Benson raised an eyebrow. "Part of his charm."

Benson tried to sound confident in his claims, and not horribly frightened like he was on the inside. It all could have fell apart if Stanley called his bluff.

"I don't buy it."

"It's true. Two years strong." Benson protested.

To really sell the point, he wrapped his arms around Mordecai, and Mordecai's eyes widened in clarity. He wasn't stupid enough to break the charade, but Benson had to nudge him a bit to stop looking so surprised. Mordecai, in turn, held Benson close.

Stanley looked at them, still not totally convinced. "You sure he's ain't one of those… Bifocal people?"

Benson then got seductively close. "Oh no. He's totally… One hundred percent."

"Yeah… I don't. I don't even know what a vagina looks like."

Mordecai nodded, and Benson glared at him for a split second.

_Jesus…_

"That _is_ pretty fairy like." Stanley rubbed the back of his neck.

It worried Benson _that _was actually convincing to Stanley.

"You should see him when Glee comes on. Totally flamers. Excuse the pun."

Stanley studied them closer, and Benson pushed himself to Mordecai tighter. Stanley sucked on his teeth (_Oh god… They… Were so… Yellow…_) and motioned between the two of them.

"Let's see a kiss."

"What." Benson flatly asked, like Stanley had told them to go at it right then on the wooden floor.

"If you two are really like you say you are, it wouldn't be a problem."

"Um…"

"He's got a point Benson."

"Shut up, you'll get us killed!" Benson barked as he hit Mordecai in the chest.

"Y'know what? Nevermind. I'm gonna kill ya anyways."

Stanley reignited, but in classic Skips fashion, Skips appeared magically and clocked Stanley on the back of his head with the fire extinguisher, disorienting him for a brief moment.

"Open it! Open the door!"

Benson and Mordecai worked together to haul the heavy basement door open and Skips pushed Stanley in just as he was bursting with flames again. They immediately slammed in shut, Stanley's screaming was all too clear.

"You _damn_ homos and your… **Fully furnished homes**!"

Stanley shouted manically and banged on the door until everyone was sure he'd break through, but eventually the screaming and knocks ceased.

Skips leaned against a piece of wall breathing heavily. "You guys messin' with fire demons now?"

"He was my ex." Margaret and Pops emerged from the older gentleman's room and huddled at the bottom of the stairs. "For good reason, as you all can see."

"What happened to him?" Mordecai asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Skips motioned to open the door and check for themselves, much to winded to say what he meant.

Hesitantly, they reopened it to see Stanley frozen as he was covered in ice. His eyes were still moving and his mouth was agape.

They all stared curiously at the fire demon ice sculpture.

"Can't he just reignite?" Margaret asked, backing away.

"Not if his core is frozen." Benson said. He turned to Skips. "This is what happens when the thermostat isn't at sixty?"

Skips nodded. "Not that you didn't know that already. Quick thinking."

Mordecai had the worst 'I'm A Dumbass Moment' when remembering Benson's attempt to warn him about the fire extinguisher's effectiveness.

"Thanks." Benson nodded back, inhaling deeply.

Pops slowly faced the frozen Stanley. He nervously put a hand to Stanley's face, and the moment he did Stanley broke into a million ice shards.

The closed the door for the final time that night, and Benson and Mordecai slid down it together. Benson punched Mordecai in his side.

"Do you think gay men are **afraid** of _female genitals_?"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

"I'm gonna spend the night here."

Benson didn't waste time trying to go against Skips. "You can stay in your house. Thank you so much Skips."

"Right." Skips went off and finished the rest of the repairs on the house.

"Ever thought it was weird that Skips could fix the house after cataclysmic damage in only, like, two hours?" Mordecai asked, observing the yeti at work.

"We were almost roasted to death and all you worry about is Skips' efficiency?"

"I'm just saying! Our house was totally destroyed a few hours ago. It looks brand new now."

"You should be thankful. If Skips wasn't here we'd be sleeping in some shelter. That's assuming I would have been able to get that Stanley asshole in the basement in time."

"You would have."

Benson blew into his hands, trying to warm them up, and considered Mordecai's words.

"I'm not so sure."

"Trust me, you would have. After two years of dating, I realize you can do _anything_."

Mordecai smirked at Benson. Benson huffed, and looked at his employee dead in the eye.

"That whole… Thing, was for life saving purposes only. It wasn't even that effective. So let's just move on. Please."

Mordecai put up his hands in surrender, but snickered low, making sure only Benson heard him, "It would have worked if you had kissed me."

Before Benson could think about that too much, Skips called out that the first story was safe to walk around in.

The interior looked as if a crazy jilted fire demon douchebag **didn't** tear it to pieces.

"I'm sorry I caused all of this." Margaret apologized as she looked into all of the men's faces.

Benson knew it was totally Margaret's fault, but he couldn't help but feel a bit resentful. And the way Mordecai doted after her, like she was the only one who was shaken up Stanley, that pissed him off more than it should have.

"It's okay Margaret. You're safe, we all safe. Nobody got roasted except our house. It's all good." Mordecai said, reassuringly and Pops nodded along.

Benson smiled weakly at Margaret, but she still looked ashamed.

"I think I'd better go home, before anymore ex-boyfriends of mine wreck up the place." Margaret half-joked, but the group momentarily paused for an attack.

It never came, and they laughed at their paranoia.

"Did you want me to walk you back?" Mordecai asked Margaret, a concerned smile in his beak.

"You've done enough already. Really. Thank you though, Mordecai."

Mordecai hadn't realized how close his and Margaret's face were, until Pops got between them and got a hold of Margaret's shoulders.

"It is such a shame to see you leave Miss Margaret, but-" Pops reached behind himself and placed Dr. Patricia's book in Margaret's hands. "The book you were admiring whilst we were cocooned in my quarters. You should take a gander at the third chapter, **Xing Exes**."

"Aww. Thanks Pops. Why do you recommend it?"

"Because it'll help rid you of any lingering feelings for your past boyfriends. **All **of them."

Pops pointed to Mordecai _without actually pointing_ at Mordecai.

"Not to impose any more than I already have, I was wondering if someone could-?"

Benson said, "Ask Skips. He'll be able to take you home after the repairs are finished."

Margaret said a final goodbye, and when the front door closed, Benson sighed.

"From now on, you go _over _Margaret's apartment."

A ferocity Benson's never seen came over Mordecai. "She was trying to **warn** me. She was trying to do the right thing."

Pops made a noise just to interrupt the impending argument. When the other two looked at him, he shrilly announced,

"Who wants hot cocoa~?"

Mordecai inhaled. Letting himself calm down, Mordecai laughed at Pops' suggestion. "Only if we watch Shy Guy."

"Oh! Cinema night!"

Pops clapped his hands and retreated into the kitchen to make the hot beverage. Benson crossed his arms.

"I wasn't trying to… Badmouth her. Or anything."

"I just. She's not just some girl I had sex with for a couple of months. She's a friend."

Benson looked genuinely hurt.

"I don't think that. I would _never_ think that. I _never_ thought _that_."

Mordecai looked down at his feet. He smiled mercifully at Benson.

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Benson took a seat on the cushion next to Pops as Mordecai sat on the floor and watched the romantic comedy, Shy Guy.

He felt he owed Mordecai.

"_Jason Kingsley was a two," a phony voiceover said. _

_Cue Jason tripping on his shoe laces while some ridiculously good looking women point and laugh at him. _

"_Who was just looking for his eleven." _

_Cut to Jason, in a library checking out this elfish girl who is absorbed in a book._

"_Hey did you see that girl? In the fairytale section?" Jason said to his generic fat, sort of misogynist friend. _

"_The chick with the book? Was sorta hard to with her being flat as a board and all." _

_Cut to Jason nervously going up to the girl, and she looked up from the book to smile at him. _

_Jason fainted. _

_Cut to Jason with an ice pack on his head, being pressed on by the girl. _

"_You fell pretty hard." _

_Jason smiled. "Yeah. I guess I did." _

"Ugh. I'm going to throw up again."

"Don't be such a sour puss, Benson." Pops teased.

"I'm sorry, but. People don't fall in love like this! And how come they keep calling this girl 'quirky'? What the _hell_ is quirky? Do they mean crazy? Crazy sounds more accurate."

"Quirky means weird but in, like, a cute way." Mordecai explained with a smile. "I mean just look at her. She's wearing leg warmers. In the summer! That's quirky!"

"No, that's how you get heatstroke."

Pops silently sipped his hot chocolate and Mordecai turned around to face Benson. Benson was startled at first, but regained his composure.

"What is it with you and romantic comedies?"

"The whole Boy Meets Girl formula is a bit… Tired and unrealistic. Don't you think? No? Okay, look at the screen now."

Mordecai did what he was told.

"_Listen. I didn't fall in love with Pixie because of her boobs. I fell in love with her because… Because I had to." _

"_Don't do it man! The flat-chested chick isn't worth it! " The fat misogynist friend warned. _

_Cut to Jason getting stealing a little girl's pink tricycle. _

"_Yes she is! She's quirky!" _

_Jason rode into traffic, on his way to stop Pixie's wedding to the boring business guy who doesn't appreciate her quirkiness. _

"Aww." Mordecai and Pops swooned.

_And __**I'm **__the gay one. _

"First of all, he would have been run over. Or the police would have arrested him. Second of all, he's only known this girl for what? A week? She's been engaged for _two years_!"

"What's your point dude?"

"My point, Mordecai, is that no one would actually do all of that for someone they've known for such a short period of time."

"You don't think people can fall in love in a month Or a week? How about a day?"

Benson stared at Mordecai like he grew a second head. "Of course they can't."

Mordecai smirked and pulled his legs to his chest. "What was his name?"

"What?"

"Of the guy the shit on your idea of love. Was it that Al guy?"

"How come whenever there is an innocent criticism of these movies, us realistic ones are accused of being bitter broken hearted harpies?"

Mordecai gave Benson an amused look. The both ignored the fact Pops had silently made his way back to his room.

"So it was somebody else. High school sweetheart?"

"Unbelievable. What is it about my personal life do you find so fascinating?"

"I happen to think you have a _very_ fascinating personal life. Sue me!"

Benson leaned into the sofa, and he hated himself for it, but a sharp smile formed on his face.

"It was a woman."

"Huh?"

"The person who changed my idea about love. It was a woman."

"Really? Were you guys-"

"Nah! Nope. Not saying anything else. I'm tired and I've gotta practice for the show later."

"C'mon!"

Mordecai got up face to face with Benson.

He grinned.

"You won't even talk about your past with your own 'boyfriend'?"

It took Benson longer than it should have to realize Mordecai was just messing around.

Benson groaned, not really in the mood, "Please don't let that turn into running gag between us. It's getting _really_ old, _really_ fast."

"It's funny you should say 'gag'…" Mordecai said suggestively, in a kidding way.

Of course.

"Goodnight, Mordecai."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Benson was turning the knob on his room door when Mordecai shouted, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Leave the door unlocked for me, Ben!"

Benson rolled his eyes.

He laid upon his bed, and tried his best to fall asleep, when he realized he had indeed (_Subconsciously. It was totally unintentional_) left the door unlocked. Benson got up to lock his door, but Mordecai was on the other side at the same time.

"Holy shit! You actually left it unlocked! Haha! _Priceless_!"

_Ugh. So it begins. _

_''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' _

_A/N: There! No more until the 21st! That means you, starbomb! No more! XD_


	14. Chapter 14

Tuesday, the sixteenth, Mordecai was standing in front of the Coffee Shop with friggin' Lou Diamond Phillips.

Rigby sat inside with Eileen chewing his ear off about them hanging out even though they had **no reason **to with the MWAT program being terminated and all, though Rigby obviously wasn't listening. He just made lazy circles with his finger on the table and occasionally looked over at Margaret, silently asking for help, but she was too enthralled by Dr. Patricia's book.

The two men had stepped outside, par Phillips' request.

_Lou Diamond Phillips. _**Lou Diamond Phillips**. LouDiamondPhillips! Lou, Diamond, Phillips! Right in front of him, breathing the same air he was and standing on the same icy sidewalk in a white dress shirt and black pants with tie.

The world kept spinning and the sky stayed gloomy gray and the people on the street carried on like it was an ordinary day, but it wasn't. It really _freakin' _wasn't. After the class, Mordecai had asked if he would accompany the gang back to the Coffee Shop, since he'd be staying in town for awhile and wanted to know where all the hot spots were.

He was everything Mordecai dreamt he'd be.

Mordecai's mouth opened and closed in excitement, and he kept flopping his wings around whilst making these embarrassing laughing/snorting noises. Lou Diamond Phillips (The Greatest Philipino Actor of Our Time!) stared down at him, and smirked.

"Do you… Need a moment?"

"R-remember in _Renegades_ when that dude tried to shoot your character and you did a winding kick to disarm him and, and then y-you sprung back up and punched him in the face?"

"Yeah. Sure I do."

"That was… That was _awesome_." Mordecai said dreamily.

The actor smiled, and revealed his gleaming white teeth. "_Renegades_ was one of my classics. Though I'm surprised you remember it."

"I know _all_ of your movies. All of them! Really! You can quiz me!"

"That's fine-"

"C'mon! Quiz me!"

Mordecai held his hands together, so they'd stop shaking. The ice on the sidewalk made it hard to keep balance, and the cold air made Mordecai's nerves worse.

"That's okay, I believe you." he laughed. "So what did you think of the last MWAT lesson?"

"Mr. Phillips… Can I call you that? Well, I thought it was pretty interesting. "

Mordecai had no idea what the lesson was about. He was too busy thinking about every movie Phillips has been in. The dramas, action movies, hell! Even the musicals!

"You agree the city has an unusually high concentration of paranormal energy?"

Mordecai nodded. "Sure. Sure… Did they let you keep all of the clothes from _La Bamba_?"

"I mean… I used to think _Los Angeles _was bad… Did you hear about that fire demon that blew up the water tower yesterday? Insane…"

"Yeah. Crazy…Tell me about Emilio Estevez! He seems stuck up. Is he stuck up?"

"And that poor redheaded girl… She's one of the reasons the program's been terminated. We've decided to put all of our energy investigating the killings."

"You'll be like your character in _Carny_. Except in real life!"

"Normally, serial killings are anything but supernatural. But the moment we saw Jerry McGuire's involvement…"

Jerry's name pulled Mordecai out of his stupor. "The government is watching Jerry McGuire? Seriously?"

"Actually we're watching _Top Gun_. But _Jerry McGuire _is up next."

Mordecai laughed, exasperated. "No, I meant… The lawyer. What do you know about the lawyer?"

Philips' face tensed. He subtly distanced himself from Mordecai.

"I'm afraid I… Can't say much." Phillips confessed.

He then preceded to tell Mordecai a bunch of details about the case, such as the high supernatural energy present at each scene of the murder, and Jerry's sudden switch from defense attorney to prosecutor. He even told Mordecai about how they had reason to believe Jerry was directly linked to Silo's murders… And Silo's own murder as well.

"Wait. Silo's dead? When did that happen?"

"A year ago. Don't you watch the news, son?"

"Not unless a celebrity dies."

Phillips looked at him sideways. "I'm going to end the conversation here. Classified information, you understand. But we're looking into it."

"You're such a professional, Lou Diamond Phillips." Mordecai praised.

"Thanks."

"You should pull a Hank Storm, y'know? Break into Jerry's law firm, ask questions and start bustin' heads." Mordecai said with a crazy, boyish look in his eye.

"If our investigation calls for it." Phillips laughed.

Mordecai made a decision right then. If the government was keeping an eye on McGuire, so would he. He'd do everything within his capacity to expose the shiny eyed asshole for what he was. He could end up impressing his idol in the process if he did a good job. All he was sure of, and as far as Mordecai was concerned, Jerry McGuire was a criminal.

He just needed **proof**.

A black car drove up to the curb, and honked once to tell Phillips to get in. Mordecai asked him, out of curiosity, "Mr. Phillips, how did Silo die?" Phillips looked at him confused, but then pondered it for a second.

"I'm not sure…But if I remember the coroner's report correctly, Silo's throat was ripped out."

Mordecai let the words sink in; let them stew and simmer. "His throat?"

"Yep. Clean cut."

_I think I've got it now. _

"Thanks. Nice to meet you Mr. Phillips!" Mordecai waved goodbye with a huge smile on his face.

Phillips saluted to Mordecai as he went inside the vehicle.

Before he drove off he put on his sunglasses, and ordered his driver in a surprisingly kind voice, "Take me uptown George, gotta buy those lilies for the missus." The car drove off, and just then Rigby came out of the Coffee Shop with a bored look on his face.

"Thank God he's gone." he complained.

"Lou Diamond Phillips is gonna kick Jerry McGuire's _ass_."

Rigby studied Mordecai for what seemed like forever, until he said irritated, "Don't be such a fan boy."

Mordecai furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. "What's your deal, dude? You were a bigger fan than me!"

"You kinda lose all respect for a guy who quotes his own movies like they're documentaries… Conceited jerk… And obviously he's a little nutty if he actually thinks he's some sort of _cop_." Rigby made a sour face. Mordecai smiled down at him. He had almost forgotten had fickle Rigby was. It was weird how the things that annoyed him about Rigby were the same exact things he liked about Rigby.

But that's just how bros are.

"You find any bands that'll play for the party?"

Rigby's sour face faltered slightly. "No. And any bands that are available cost an arm and a leg." Mordecai nodded, and looked inside the Coffee Shop to see Eileen staring directly at Rigby. She stopped and quickly turned around embarrassed when she noticed Mordecai saw her.

"Still dodging Eileen I see."

Rigby ignored Mordecai's observation. "We should hang out tomorrow. If I spend one more minute with Don or Eileen I'll friggin' explode."

"Tomorrow's… Not so good. I have that thing with Margaret, remember?"

Mordecai gazed over to Margaret, who was still reading that book. Her eyes never left the page, even when people complained about their orders not being filled. She refused to put it down.

"Ugh. You and your post relationship crushing." Rigby made a dissatisfied noise and rubbed his arms to warm them up.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that." Mordecai said.

"Notice how you're not denying it."

The two friends shared a smile, until Phillips' words triggered something in Mordecai's mind.

_Lilies… Flowers… Plants… Plants. _

"I got to go."

Mordecai began to run back to the house and Rigby called out to him, "I'll be over later!"

"I wouldn't if I were you!"

"Why not?"

But Rigby never got an explanation. Mordecai just disappeared into the snowy distance, leaving Rigby alone with ice beneath his feet and new suspicions in his head.

Benson knew he was procrastinating, thank you very much.

He knew he should have been practicing for Thursday. He knew his drumming was rusty and the last time he played was when that annoying song was at the park (which was five months ago, and was actually his most mediocre performance, in his opinion.) He knew that he missed B.E.A.T, and 86', and those times when he _let things happen_. Benson knew these things. But when he opened the garage door, and stared at his drum kit… He had the teeniest-tiniest freak out and… He couldn't.

He just couldn't.

He went back into the house, saying a quick hello to Pops who was making cookies in the kitchen, and went into his room, where he soon heard his phone ring. The phone's ring was so loud, it vibrations beat against Benson's nightstand. Benson stared at the phone for so long, he had forgotten that the ringing meant _someone was calling him_, and rushed to answer it.

"Hello?"

An amused voice snickered, "Jesus. You even sound old over the phone."

"Who the hell is this?" Benson scowled.

The other person on the phone laughed vigorously. "It's me! Al? That guy you formed a band with?"

Benson became less defensive… But not by much.

"How did you get my number?"

"You gave it to me at that coffee place. Before I left, remember?"

"Oh… Yeah." Benson didn't remember.

"Well I just called to make sure we're still on for Thursday, Big Ben."

"Of course we are. I was actually practicing when you called." Benson lied.

"Always the perfectionist." Al said, and Benson could hear the smile in his voice.

_A shaggy haired, twenty-two year old Albert Hanna came up to Benson when he was at his drums, and blew a raspberry into his cheek. _"_Ew… Dude! You're being a creeper!" _

"_I won't stop 'til you put the sticks down! Now let me get the other side!" _

"Nothing wrong with perfection."

"That kid must've jumped through flaming hoops just to be with you."

Benson felt a flash of heat run up and down his body. "I. I wanted to talk you about that. Me and Mordecai-"

"Mordecai's his name? Sounds beatnik. You did always go for the hipster type."

"We are not…" Benson stopped himself. "What do you mean the 'hipster type'?"

"Black rimmed rectangle glasses, the peppering of 'dude' in everything he says… All he needs now is a skinny mustache and an Arcade Fire tee. That's what they're called right? Arcade Fire? Yeah… Very new age." The referencing of glasses and alternative bands only deterred Benson for a moment before he got back on track.

"We're not dating."

Al snorted. "You guys not official?"

"No. No, no, no. I mean we're not _together_."

"_Sure_."

"We're not dating, Albert."

"You use my whole name when you try to convince me that something is true. Did you know that?"

"We are NOT dating. We aren't even _friends_."

"_Okay_."

Benson became frustrated, and couldn't help the sharp edge that crept into his voice. "Mordecai is a straight -underline- _straight_ employee of mine. Which I have no emotion and/or physical attraction towards. And that's all I'm going to say about the matter." Al was silent for a moment, but then spoke with the same disarming voice he always had when they used to argue.

"You and I know first hand, that 'straight' is code for 'needs a little persuading'."

"_If you keep carrying on like that," Benson said, their faces inches away from each other. "People are going to think you're gay." _

_Al did nothing but smile wide, before making their lips brush against each other._

Benson rubbed his forehead. "And sometimes it means exactly what it says on the tin."

Al breathed into the phone, and Benson closed his eyes. The images wouldn't go away.

"_If this is going to happen," Al looked into Benson's eyes. "Then it would have to stay between you and me." _

_Benson blinked once confused, but kept close to Al anyway, with his smile beaming. "But I thought you said you didn't care-" _

_Al cut him of with a kiss._

"Alright. I see this conversation is going to Shitsville. Until Friday then. And remember to bring your not-boyfriend." Al hung up before Benson could say goodbye, like he always did when they spoke on the phone, and Benson put it back on the nightstand. He fell back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was half past noon, and all the house chores were done. There was nothing to do but practice his drums (a.k.a, what he _should_ have been doing.) and maybe take a few shots of the icicles dripping from the sides of the roof (a.k.a, what he _wanted _to do.) But just as Benson reached down into his closet to grab his camera, he heard the high pitched screaming coming from outside.

Mordecai was looking over what he had done when Benson came into the greenhouse.

He turned around to face his boss, the same way a child would when they had done something good and wanted their parents to praise them. The flowers drooped and the shrubs were shriveled and barren. All of the hanging plants were on the floor and were a hideous shade of brownish black. The fichus trees were shredded to bits, their branches and leaves scattered everywhere.

All that remained was the leader tree.

"Sunshine! Sunshine _help _me! The blue one is insane!" Benson observed the plant massacre before him, and then the screaming fichus tree, and finally Mordecai. Mordecai had brand new clippers in his hands. He lifted them a little in Benson's direction. He looked at Mordecai. Then back at the fichus once more. He gradually made his way to Mordecai and gently took the clippers from him. Benson did a test chop on the dead rose bush, and lifted the clippers up. They were sharp. The sun shone through the glass and onto the blades.

The fichus' screams became more shrill the closer Benson got.

"No! What are you _doing?_ Murderers! _Killers!_ _NO_!"

Benson diced the tree into pieces that flew into the air every which way. When he decided that he had done enough damage, Benson let the clippers fall from his hands. Mordecai smiled at his boss.

"I… Thought you'd want to get the last one."

Benson inhaled and exhaled deeply. "You thought correct." Mordecai nodded. Benson looked up at him.

"I couldn't find the old clippers, so I dipped into the funds to buy new ones. I hope you don't mind."

"Fine investment." Benson said, nodding along with him. The sunlight intensified out of nowhere and shone through the whole glass building. The light bounced around them, and somehow the dead plants and chaos looked beautiful when illuminated. "Why did you kill them all?"

The right side of Mordecai's mouth curled upwards. "Because I promised to."

"Whe-"

"I said I'd kill the plants for you, if you saw Al. So," Mordecai lifted his arms up to present the scene before them. "Ta-da!"

Benson gawked at the younger man. "Oh… Well. Thanks."

"A favor for a favor, dude."

Mordecai debated inside himself for a brief moment, until he finally decided to lightly punch Benson on the arm. Benson looked at his arm where Mordecai had punched. He rubbed his arm, glanced behind Mordecai to suddenly see Pops pressing his face against the glass with bright eyes and grinning ear to ear. Benson did not like seeing that grin on Pops' face.

It was proud and… It screamed "Mission Accomplished." Mordecai noticed the grimace forming on Benson's face and his eyes staring past him so he turned around to see Pops standing outside, waving ecstatically. He waved back. Mordecai chuckled, "Pops must be happy to see the plants dead too."

"Right…" said Benson, skeptical.

He gave his attention back to Mordecai. Benson wasn't used to favors. He didn't know the proper way to thank someone for killing an entire room of homophobic shrubs and trees, but he had to do something. Mordecai shrugged and turned on his heel.

"I'm going to my room now."

Before he realized what he was doing, Benson grabbed onto Mordecai's wing and held onto it. Mordecai let go of him, and forced himself to say something. The first thing that popped into his head. "Are you a fan of Wreckless Eric?"

"Sorry if the smoke bothers you."

Mordecai laughed at Benson softly. Benson brought the cigarette back to his lips then released a puff from his mouth. He thought about what he said. "Yeah… I guess it wouldn't bother you." The song that was playing finished, and a new one started with just a bass and Wreckless Eric's gargled voice. The two of them sat on the window sill in Benson's room facing the record player. Benson slumped against the window. "I met her at a show."

"_There's been no messages for me, from a girl by the name of Veronica_," Wreckless Eric crooned.

Mordecai turned his head to see his boss looking down at the carpet. He hadn't the slightest idea what he was talking about. "And while I'm playing, I look out into the crowd… And amongst the drunk assholes and sluttish women dancing on table tops… I saw her… No… Now that think about it," Benson corrected himself; his eyes squinted as he remembered that night. "Actually I saw Eddy, our rhythm guitarist, grinding against a waitress. _Then_ I saw her."

Wreckless Eric sang out, _"I wanna hold her but I can't, 'cause I'm a soldier…"_

Benson's eyes shone and he spoke ever so softly. "We got through the set, and I made a beeline to her as soon I hopped off stage. She was a gumball machine. Blonde… My height. I remember her having the biggest, bluest eyes… We started talking. I found out we even had some classes together. She was into interior design. I told her I was into photography. She was actually impressed. After that we saw more of each other became friends… Eventually we started dating."

Benson smiled to himself. Mordecai tilted his head. He was telling Mordecai about the woman.

_I should kill plants for Benson more often._

"Does this mean… You're… Bisexual? Or was she a beard or-"

"I loved her." Mordecai's face became blank, while he tried to really understand Benson's words, but he must've looked skeptical of his boss's words because Benson harshly stated, "She wasn't some cover girlfriend I plucked out of thin air. I _loved_ her."

"'_Cause I'm going to this war, I'm gonna fight for my Veronica!"_

Mordecai saw in Benson the same anger he held when he thought Benson was insulting Margaret. Mordecai looked down. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

Benson took the cigarette from his mouth. "It's okay."

Mordecai wondered if he sounded as sadand defeated as Benson when he defended his (old) relationship with Margaret. Benson waited to see if Mordecai would say anything else, and when he didn't Benson blew three smoke rings from his mouth, and continued. "One day, I went to her dorm. And all of her stuff was in boxes." Benson's voice became dark. "She had dropped out. I asked her what was going on, and she looked into my eyes… And she told me…" Benson laughed bitterly, "She told me I was sucking the life from her." Benson looked at Mordecai with an ironic smile. "She told me I was exhausting."

Mordecai felt all of the guilt in the world fill his bodice, as his and Benson's heated exchange from earlier replayed in his head.

_I wouldn't have… I wouldn't have said that if I had known…_

"She gathered all her things, and left?" Mordecai asked. Benson nodded. "Where?"

"She just left." Benson said to Mordecai.

He wasn't sad, though. Or angry. Or heartbroken. He sounded more… Frustrated.

"Why?"

"Because at the end of the day, the dust cleared and what was left was two people who had nothing in common. You don't build relationships on chance meetings and pleasant dinner conversation. Nor can it be built while your singing 'Don't Stop Believing' to drunk collegians."

"'_Cause there's no messages of hope that Veronica could ever send to me…"_

Mordecai studied Benson. Benson stared right back, hoping his words did something for Mordecai. "You don't handle break-ups well, do you?"

Benson laughed humorlessly. "You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Benson took his cigarette from his mouth and twirled it with his fingers. He smiled a sharp smile; it threatened to cut Mordecai to pieces. "Every time you come back from the Coffee Shop," Benson said, contemptuously. "You look as if you've been to Heaven and back." Mordecai was calm, as he flipped out on the inside and tried to hide the small feeling of panic that sprung from his gut.

"What? I like coffee."

"Must be the world's greatest coffee."

Mordecai listened to Benson's tone, the way he said exactly what he meant and what Mordecai couldn't admit to himself. Benson dropped it, and Mordecai was both relieved and bothered there was anything to drop in the first place.

"_I'm a soldier," _Wreckless Eric proclaimed, _"Bang, bang… I really want to hold her…"_

"It sucks what she did to you."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. Now you can never understand the genius of Shy Guy."

Benson snorted, "What genius?"

"It's… It's like… The way love should be."

Mordecai smiled a little to himself. Benson wanted to punch him for saying something so… Ridiculous. "Those movies are an insult to human emotion… They're so unrealistic."

"There's nothing romantic about realism." Benson made a gagging noises and put his cigarette out. Mordecai rolled his eyes annoyed, trying to think of some way to make Benson understand. Mordecai looked at his boss, thought about it, and beamed at him. Benson narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What?"

Mordecai couldn't stop his smile from growing. "What if a guy, took your hands," he did just that, and took each of Benson's hands. "And looked longingly in your eyes," Mordecai did that as well. "And told you he needed you? Not for a night, or until someone better came along. Really _needed_ you. What if he told you he'd drop dead right then and there if it meant you'd be happy? What if he told you that he wanted to spend every day of every year with you, and that… And that when he looked at you, he knew exactly where he needed to be?" Benson looked as if he was gonna make a run for it, but he made no attempt to pull himself from Mordecai's grasp. "What if someone actually told you they loved you? What if they told you in a song or sonnet or- shit I dunno- atop a _mountain_. What if? What would you do? What would you _think_?"

Benson's door creaked ever so quietly; so quiet, neither man bothered to look. Mordecai held Benson's eyes, and for a brief, hallucinogenic moment he thought Benson was buying into it.

That Benson thought it was _Mordecai_ saying the words for real.

"I would think he's trying too hard to get laid." Benson took Mordecai's hands off of his, and slightly turned away from him.

"'_Cause I'm going to this war I'm gonna fight for my Veronica…"_

Mordecai frowned a little, but regained his mischievous grin. "Note to self. 'Return engagement ring.'"

"That's not funny."

"You're damn right it isn't! You'd think after **two years **you'd want to make an honest man out of me." Mordecai laughed hard at his own joke. Benson didn't.

"You give me…" Benson rubbed his temples. "Such migraines."

"Seriously though, thanks for the info dump. Why so open all of a sudden?"

"_In the meantime, I'll just kiss her picture…" _

"Just to shut you up. You're pretty annoying when you're nosy. More annoying than usual." Neither man believed Benson's explanation.

Mordecai sighed, "I'm going to leave and eat some of Pops' cookies to soothe my broken heart."

"If you keep making jokes like that, people will assume you're gay." Benson crossed his arms, and Mordecai kept laughing. But his laughter subsided, and something serious came over him. He looked in Benson's eyes again.

"And would that be such a _horrible_ thing?"

Benson couldn't help but shiver at the sense of déjà vu Mordecai incited. His employee stared longer, until he went back to his less intense, goofy self. Mordecai left Benson's room with little fanfare, and Benson sat on the sill. He forced himself not to catch up with Mordecai and ask him what he meant.

"_I'm just waiting for a message from a girl by the name of Veronica!" _

Margaret cancelled on Mordecai Wednesday. He had gone over her apartment, and she smiled at him apologetically.

"I'm just… I'm _really_ getting into this book. Tell Pops thank you when you get the chance."

Mordecai groaned. "You're ditching me for a book?"

Margaret paced around reading, never once looking at him. He followed her around the room. "I'm not ditching you. I'm simply rescheduling for a later date."

"You're _ditching_ me."

Margaret hit him playfully. Mordecai feigned agony. "Don't be such a baby. Why don't you hang out with Rigby? He keeps coming to the Coffee Shop asking about you."

Mordecai waved off her suggestion. "I planned a day with _you_. I can't watch the sunset amorously with _Rigby_." Mordecai caught up with her, and laid his head on Margaret's shoulder.

"Then hang out with Benson. You haven't complained about him in awhile." Margaret grinned teasingly, and Mordecai scoffed.

"Benson's not the 'Sunset Watching' type."

"You say that like you know him." Margaret giggled.

"Not much to know about him." said Mordecai, and he had no idea why that felt rude to say.

Margaret looked up from the book with her grin. "… Mordecai?"

"Hmm?"

"What exactly have you and Benson been doing in that house all this time?"

If it was anyone else, like Rigby or Muscle Man, Mordecai would have playfully shrugged it off. He would have said something like, 'Oh we're having hot sex in every room in the house. Why do you ask?' and Margaret would have laughed and he would have laughed because it was a joke; just a harmless joke. But Mordecai did _not_ joke about it. He frowned.

"Cleaning. Shoveling snow. Fighting mutant snowmen and fire demons. The usual." She looked at him suspiciously, and it appeared she was going to say something else, but she didn't. Margaret kissed him on the cheek and patted him on the shoulder.

"We'll talk. Later. I promise."

Mordecai smiled lopsidedly, and made his way to the door. "Okay. But when you see the sunset, you remember I'm out there. Alone. Without you."

"You'll do just fine without me." Margaret told him, sweetly.

_I don't believe that… I __**can't**__ believe that. _

Thursday, nighttime, right before Benson and Mordecai were going to leave, Pops knocked on Mordecai's door twice. Mordecai allowed him to came in after Pops finally learned to pause appropriately.

"Good job, Pops."

Pops literally patted himself on the back. "I waited!" Mordecai nodded at the older gentleman, and invited him to sit on his bed, while he looked around his shirt. He was wearing clothes for the first time in years, and Mordecai had to admit he felt… He couldn't describe it. Cool? Attractive? The way you feel when you catch a ball without looking. Yeah… That was close to what he felt.

"Me and Benson will be back around eleven. You'll be fine here alone won't you?"

"I'm not a child, Mordecai."

Mordecai got up from looking underneath the bed and smiled at Pops. "Of course you're not Pops. Of course you're not." He found his shirt, swiftly put it on, and had to readjust his glasses.

"You look like the gentlemen on those magazines you read." Pops told Mordecai, hoping it was a compliment.

Mordecai smiled at Pops. "Thanks Pops. Just what I was aiming for. Did you want something?" Pops kicked his legs back and forth. Mordecai quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh I just wanted to wish you and Benson a splendid time."

"That's nice of you."

"And to be careful out on the roads."

"We'll be careful, Pops." said Mordecai, laughing at the older man's concern.

"And to make sure Benson drinks **lots** of alcohol."

_Pause. Rewind. Play. _

Mordecai stared wide eyed at the man sitting on his bed, who acted like he didn't just totally say something 'wtf' worthy. "Pops… What the he- heck do you mean by that?"

Pops' smiled persisted. "He's a little… He's less abrasive when he's inebriated. I just thought you'd want to know that."

"No. I didn't. I did not _want_ to know."

"Well now you know! And try not to hurry home. Take all the time in the world getting back. Or don't came back right away! You two could spend the nig-"

"Stop." Mordecai held up one hand, because past experiences has told him Pops will keep on rambling despite you asking him to stop. "Stop. Just **stop**. What are you even _talking_ about?" Pops' smile became more forced, until he stood up hastily from Mordecai's bed and obviously fake yawned.

"I'm sleepy!" Pops shouted, and tried to leave Mordecai's room, but the younger man stood in front of him.

"No. You are not going off and ignoring what I said, like you've been doing since you came back to the park."

Pops eyed the window, but they both knew he wasn't _seriously_ considering jumping out of it.

"About what, exactly?"

"The weird looks you give when me and Benson are in the same room and, and just- the odd stuff you say sometimes. And not the regular weird sh- er, stuff. You say like, _really_ off putting things."

"Off putting? However do you mean?"

"You wanted me and Benson to _sleep _in the _same_ room." Mordecai stated in an incredulous voice. Pops' eyes darted everywhere but Mordecai's eyes, and Mordecai listened to what he is saying. "And the pictures and music… And the hot chocolate…" Mordecai trailed off… And the clogs finally fit together. The puzzle pieces made the picture Pops was quietly building and his guilty smile confirmed the horrible, horrible truth. "Oh. _Oh God!_ Oh sweet loving God. Pops! What is _wrong _with you?" Mordecai became something that can only be described as an angry robot who got dipped into water. "Ah! This? Nah. Not good!"

"Please! Let me explain!"

Mordecai began to walk around his room in frantic, crazed circles. "I. Erm. Haha! Ah. Uh. Hmm!"

"If you would let me _explain_, Mordecai!

"No!"

"No?"

"Nope!"

Mordecai shook his head, and started to laugh nervously. Pops tried to stop him from walking in the panicked circles.

"Mordecai, please-"

"No! No to everything! No! Cease and desist! Abort mission! Abandon ship! Just.. **No!**"

"But! You didn't even let me-"

"I'm telling Benson." Mordecai spun around and reached for the door knob but Pops blocked the door. Mordecai tried to push him out of the way (without pushing too hard.) but Pops was determined to keep Mordecai in that room. "Pops. _Move_. Move, Pops!"

"No! Not until you let me say what I wanted to say!"

Mordecai continued to struggle with Pops, until he shoved Mordecai away. "If you tell, Benson won't be happy!"

"_Yeah! _He won't!"

"No!" Pops said, sounding tearful. "I meant. What I meant was… I'm trying to make Benson happy." Mordecai inhaled and exhaled. Pops straightened up his vest.

"This will not make _me_ nor Benson happy… I can _guarantee _you that."

"Love makes people happy. Margaret said that."

"Pops. **Pops**…"

"If Benson falls in love, he'll be happy."

"No, Pops. You're intentions are good-"

"Why not?"

Mordecai gave Pops the most pointed of looks. "'Why not?' What do you mean 'why not'?"

"Seriously! Why not? Why is it so hard for you to imagine?"

Mordecai wished there was some way he could word it, and Pops would understand. Some way he could put it in a storybook or something that gave him a solid reason 'why not'. But Mordecai couldn't even find a good reason himself. He just knew that him and Benson… Just… NO… "It would be like mixing… Two things… That don't mix well." Mordecai had chosen that particular moment to forget the old "Mixing Water and Oil" metaphor. Not that Pops would have listened to it anyway.

"You both enjoy music." Pops ticked off examples with his fingers.

Mordecai scoffed. "That's like saying we both like breathing."

"You and him have the same sense of humor!"

"I am _so_ not having this conversation…" Mordecai groaned to himself.

"You're always flirting with him!"

"No I don't!" said Mordecai stunned. "And how do you know what _flirting_ is?"

"Yes! Indeed you do!"

"What do you mean?"

"You're always calling him your boyfriend."

Pops pointed at Mordecai, confident he had proven his point. Mordecai sputtered and blinked. He leaned against the door as he realized his innocent teasing of Benson did sound… Incriminating. "I do… But not, like… Pops what you don't understand is… I was. I was kidding around!"

"It did not sound like merely jesting to me." Pops said stubbornly.

"I'm telling Benson." Mordecai another attempt at the door when Pops grabbed him and put him in a headlock. "Ahh! Pops! This hurts!"

"My apologies but I have to stop you. You were going to ruin everything!" Pops kept a firm hold on Mordecai, even as he squirmed and thrashed about. "Now. I promise to release you after I talk."

Mordecai stopped fighting as much. "I don't want to hear it Pops."

"Benson is unhappy. And you may not care about his happiness but I do."

Said Mordecai, offended, "Who says I don't care about his happiness?"

"Then you you'll hold off from telling him until you come home from the reunion show."

"Why until then?" Mordecai's voice was strained; Pops was stronger than he looked. Damn his hidden wrestling skills. Pops loosened his grip, but not enough for Mordecai to break free.

"Because you'll see him. You'll see him up on that stage. You'll see him at his drums, with his band, with his fans. You'll see the little spark that goes off inside of him when he takes photographs only it will be multiplied by _one million_. You'll finally see _him_, Mordecai. And after seeing him you won't be able to forget." Pops let Mordecai go, and he rose up and stepped away. He observed the way Pops was smiling, triumphantly. "Falling in love with him will be the next step, naturally."

Mordecai calmed down his breathing and rubbed his neck. Pops hung his head a bit, guilty he had hurt Mordecai. "I always sort of wanted to know what you did when me and Benson weren't around. Not so much anymore."

Pops fiddled with his fingers. "Just watch him on stage. Then you can tell him everything."

And with that, Pops strolled out of the room. Mordecai stared at his door. It was like he was waiting for Pops to come back at tell him it was all a practical joke. But everyone knew Pops lacked the skill to pull of such an intricate prank. Then again, Pops _did_ suggest he liquor up Benson.

_Ew. Ew. Pops shouldn't be giving me __**hook up **__advice. _

Mordecai left his room to… He didn't know… Find Benson, tell him about Pops' twisted little plan, and who should he come face to face with? Benson had a fist lifted, prepared to knock. He had on his coat and scarf, with the too big for his feet boots. He held his drumsticks like they would come to life and run away from him.

"Oh! You're already ready." Benson said, looking him up and down. His eyes stopped on his shirt.

"Benson! Hey! Dude, I got to tell you-"

"What does your t-shirt say?"

Mordecai hadn't heard him. "It's about Pops. And it's extremely creepy."

"Is that a band?"

"What? My shirt?" Mordecai looked down at himself. "Yeah. Arcade Fire. They're good!"

Benson stared and stared at Mordecai's damn shirt. "It looks… Good on you."

"Thanks. I don't think you'd like them though. They're very new age."

Mordecai then remembered he should have told Pops he was straight. Why didn't he just say that? That was the perfect defense! "I'm straight," Mordecai huffed, frustrated.

Benson's expression became angry.

"I complimented you on your shirt. _Jesus_."

"Oh no I didn't mean... I don't think you were… Sorry."

"In all honesty, it looks stupid. It's a stupid shirt. Why are you wearing clothes?"

Mordecai was happy Benson changed the subject, and he smirked. "You're the only one around here allowed to wear clothes?" Benson stared at him impatiently. "… Unless you like me all… _Undressed_."

"_You're always __**flirting**__ with him!" _Pops' accusation bounced around his brain. Mordecai looked away from Benson, hoping Benson would change the subject again.

"Whatever. What is it about Pops?"

"What?"

"You said you had to tell me something about Pops. Is he okay?" Benson said, beginning to worry. Mordecai opened his mouth to tell him everything, but he couldn't help but be seduced by Pops' challenge.

_Watch him on stage. See the spark. Finally see him. _

Mordecai mulled it over (while Benson studied him, getting more and more worrisome) and decided that… Fine. Sure. Okay… He'd watch him that night. And then he'd tell Benson. Just to humor Pops. Because he did not like the new anxiety he felt when Pops pointed out his flirting with Benson, and it would prove whatever Mordecai needed to prove and… And… All that other junk.

It wasn't like he was gonna hear Benson's drumming and propose. Pft.

"Uh… Pops is probably going to have Don and Eileen over."

"What's so creepy about that?" Benson said, squinting his eyes.

"Well, I'm pretty sure they're going to sit around and talk about ferrets. That's _creepy_ dude. Don't you think that's creepy?"

Benson shook his head. "Please don't act like this when we get to the Ulysses."

"Act like what?"

"Yourself."

Mordecai laughed at Benson's insult, and, he would've lied if he said he didn't notice Benson's sly chuckle when they started to leave the house.

_Oh God… We __**do **__have the same sense of humor. _

_A/N: Here you go, chapter 14! It was gonna be a WHOLE different chapter. I had wanted to finally write out the whole B.E.A.T performance, and then Mordecai and Benson go out on the town with the other guys… And then stuff happens. But! That'll have to wait until chapter 15. Until then, keep reading! And to my friends in the east side, be careful… With the hurricane coming and all. :D_


	15. Chapter 15

The two had arrived around nine thirty (On time. Benson was _such_ an old man.) and before they went in, Benson put a halting hand on Mordecai's shoulder.

"Repeat back to me what I just said."

Mordecai saw the sea of people congesting the already cramped area. The Ulysses was, simply put, a small and unimpressive shack isolated from the rest of the establishments.

It was the kinda place _Lifetime_ would shoot a date rape movie, if that helps the visualization.

The walls were covered in band posters and dirt. Untouched snow surrounded the place as far as the eye could see. It felt as if Benson and Mordecai were in the middle of Colorado. But the weirdest thing wasn't the almost rusted off tin roof or anything like that… It was the fact the small shack that was the Ulysses had SUV's surrounding it on each side. When Mordecai peeked in the window (it was more of a hole in the wall.) he saw that most of the women (and men) looked like they just came from a PTA meeting.

The Ulysses was soccer mom territory that night.

"I am to sit down with the other barflies and do nothing to screw up the performance."

"And?"

"And if Al asks, I am to vehemently deny we're a couple and assert my straightness."

"Alright. I'll be in the back getting ready. Don't start any crap."

"Yes, _dear_." Mordecai released a puff of air.

Benson opened the door (it was more like a block of wood barely on the hinges).

"None of that shit either." Benson slipped away towards another door labeled 'stock', just as Al instructed. Light chit-chat got a bit louder, but Mordecai could hear him warn: "Do NOT drink anything the bartender recommends."

Once going down a hallway and walking towards the sound of a synthesizer, Benson was welcomed by the keyboardist of B.E.A.T. He looked up from his instrument and smiled warmly.

"_Big Ben_."

Benson returned the smile. "_Tim_."

Tim gripped up Benson with a bear hug then pulled back.

"You just got here?"

"Yeah!"

Tim laughed heartily. "I… Wow. Just_ wow_! Still a gumball machine, obviously."

"Obviously." Benson was smiling like crazy.

"Still gay?"

"Last time I checked."

"Holy shit. Big Ben plus fourteen years. Time has been wonderful to you."

Benson wanted to laugh in Tim's face, because no… No time hasn't been. But, then wasn't the time for cynicism.

"Ah well. Look at you!"

A still tall but much younger Timothy Bonnano ran though Benson's mind, chasing every girl that showed little to no interest in him. Tim present day towered over Benson at an impressive six foot four; his skinny arms firmly at his side. Tim's face was still a bit boyish despite the peach fuzz and tired eyes.

"Jesus.. Al was right about your new look!"

"My new look?"

"_Yeah_." Tim looked him up and down. "You look like you… Read Parent magazine and, like, carpool. And shit."

"I have no idea how to react to that."

The old friends shared a laugh. When was the last time he had laughed? It hurt to remember. Benson saw Eddy's guitar still on it's stand. It looked just the same. After all those years, it looked **just** the same.

"Al was arguing with a stagehand, last I saw him. Who the hell knows where Eddy is."

Benson frowned. "Not good."

Mordecai watched from the bar as the extremely drunk shirtless man with an even more drunk brunette on his arm screamed at the waitress.

"No! I wan a beer!"

He was a lean guy with tattoos all over his body (The dude was shirtless.) and a bald head. Mordecai stared at how the brunette giggled at the guys drunken rage; the way her breasts bounced around and the way her hair swished back.

"Mr. Peterson, I think you've had more than enough." The waitress said to the man, nervously looking around for help. "Don't you go on in five minutes?"

"I don nee~d you tell time at me! Gimme beer!"

"Please-"

The man just got up with the brunette still clinging, pushed past the poor girl and went on a search for someone who would give him what he wanted.

"Ladies and gentleman, the ever charming guitarist of B.E.A.T."

Mordecai jumped and spun around to see Albert Hanna next to him.

Mordecai only met the dude once, and the Ulysses was so dim it might as well have had no lights on, but he had a sort of face that you remember. For good reason. Al sounded mildly annoyed, but still managed to keep the humor in his voice.

"Where'd you come from?"

"This is gonna be some show." Al ignored Mordecai's question as he shook his head disapprovingly at Eddy. "You came with Ben?"

"Yeah. That drunk dude is your _guitarist_?"

Eddy then fell to the floor, laughing obnoxiously and taking the girl down with him.

"Unfortunately yes."

Mordecai laughed quietly, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the band. He felt the older man look him all over, head to toe, side to side. He said nothing at first, but eventually it just got too weird.

"Dude, what?"

"So… You and Benjamin."

"Benjamin?" Mordecai asked confused.

"Benson. Benson I mean. You and Benson. How did that happen?"

Mordecai thought about a whole bullshit story that involved Mordecai serenading Benson from his apartment, hushed love confessions… An office romance, if you will. But he did _not_ feel like hearing Benson's bitching about it later.

"Yeah, about that… It never _did_ happen."

Al raised an eyebrow but kept his amused grin. "Bullshit."

"I'm one hundred percent het." Mordecai said.

"Really?"

"Yep." Mordecai smirked. "… At least that's what Benson told me to say."

Al covertly covered his mouth, but failed miserably at hiding his laugh.

"Y'know Blue? I like you for Ben."

Al's approval for Mordecai and Benson's nonexistent relationship felt… Oddly satisfying. He nodded at him.

"Uh… Thanks. But were not dating."

"Sure, sure…" Al pointed to Mordecai's shirt. "That say Arcade Fire on there?"

"Yeah! You know about them?"

"No." Al laughed to himself, and cracked his knuckles. "Just. It looks good on you."

"Thanks."

"Well, after I gather what's left of Eddy we're going on. You stay away from the bartender's recommendations."

Mordecai was reminded of Benson's warning. "Why? Or else I'll end up like him?"

Mordecai pointed his thumb to Eddy, who was rolling around on the dirty floor singing _Auld Lang Syne_.

"Happy~ New Yer!" he screeched between verses.

"Or worse." Al said, voice heavy with caution.

Al smiled one last time and walked away, but doubled back with a serious face. "How much did Ben tell you about me and him?"

Mordecai felt like jumping out of his skin; Al was suddenly fierce.

"Huh? Uh- about you and him? Him and you? Just. Just…"

The way Al was looking at him… He didn't seem panicked or anything, but the way his eyes bored into him… Mordecai couldn't tell him the truth. " Just that you guys were really good friends. _Really_ good friends." Al nodded slowly looking at the ground, then snapped back to being all smiley.

"Awesome! Enjoy the show!"

Mordecai straightened up as Al walked away for real this time.

_That wasn't weird. That wasn't weird at __**all**__. _

"You converted to Buddhism?" Benson drummed on his thighs as he sat in a metal fold out chair. "Why? When?"

"Six years ago, and it was a personal decision." Tim answered.

Benson said no more, Tim didn't have to explain himself. Instead of continuing the conversation Benson sat and continued to drum out the beat in his head. Al and Eddy were nowhere to be found, but they weren't worried. It was an agreement the four all made years and years ago. It didn't matter what they did or what they drank or who they ended up screwing in the bathroom… They were all going to be on the stage when they needed to be.

It was so… Benson couldn't find the word to describe how he felt. It was like going back to a place you vaguely remember and all of the things that happened there come back to you all at once. And being at that place with the three people he trusted… The only people he trusted. It made Benson realize his teenage/early twenty years weren't _complete _shit. Tim sat on the floor with his head against the wall. He always had a high and dry look to him.

"Do you need to warm up?" Tim asked.

Benson only practiced once before that night, and to tell the truth he didn't think it would have mattered.

His nerves… His nerves were **killing** him.

"Nah. All practiced out, you know?" Benson smiled weakly.

"Yeah…"

Tim looked at Benson funny. He held his head like one side of his skull was heavier. He squinted like the sun was in his eyes and Benson wanted to know what all of _that_ was about.

"Tim, what?"

"Just... Al said you were doing a bird guy. Ae you doing a bird guy?"

"... What?"

"He said that you seduced one of your employees into a hot, illicit affair though you won't confirm it because you're secret lovers that have to hide your relationship. Or something like that."

Benson's mouth opened slightly.

"_Please_ tell me you got that from the back of a romance novel."

"Yeah. It starred you and that bird guy as the lead characters." Tim said, laughing at Benson's reaction.

"Ugh…" Benson groaned. "What script are you all reading from?"

"The one that says you're boning a bird guy!"

Benson rubbed his temples; he felt the headache coming on. "I can't believe how out of hand this has gotten." Benson leaned into the chair he sat in, while Tim got up from the floor and sat next to him.

"C'mon Ben. You can be honest with me."

Benson growled, "I'm not dating Mordecai."

"Who?"

"That's my _straight_ employee's name."

"Huh. You always did go for the hipster type."

"You can tell that from his name?… No, don't answer that. Listen to me." Benson faced Tim, eyes vicious and tongue ready to deliver a lashing. "I don't know how much Albert's told you, but listen to me. Mordecai is an employee of mine. Who is straight. And not even an option. Because he's just. _Him_. If we were countries, I'd be England while he'd be Mexico. We're like oil and water. We're like-"

"Eddy's not playing." Al entered the area where Benson and Tim were sitting with a bloody grin. "Hey Ben!"

"We're like Al and not getting into fights." Benson said, his last example for Tim.

Tim asked, "What happened now?"

Benson went up to see what damage had been done to Al's face but the man was going a mile a minute and didn't slow down for any of them. "Eddy popped me in the jaw. Long story short, he's out for the count. Anybody see my bass?"

"That _Eddy_." Tim said affectionately.

Al went around the room, searching for his instrument that obviously wasn't there.

"Where's he now?" Benson asked, following the front man.

"I dunno. I _do_ know that he's in no condition to play." Al explained. "Somebody wanna help look for my bass?"

A short, chunky stagehand knocked on the wall to get their attention. He looked calm and collected, until Benson laid eyes on him.

"We're ready for you guys." he meekly stated.

Benson thanked him, and the man stiffened up then hurried on his way, sweating bullets. Al gave up looking for his bass, went to the bathroom to spit out the blood flooding his mouth and when he got back he pointed to Tim.

"Set up your keyboard and play something for the crowd. Keep 'em happy."

Tim left without protest or argument. Al called for someone to help roll Tim's keyboard onstage. The bar had supplied Benson with a drum kit, which wracked his nerves even worse. He thought it rude to deny their offer and he couldn't move his own to the bar. Mordecai offered to move it for him, but he didn't want to fall into the habit of calling on him whenever he needed something lifted or, more recently, killed.

Eddy's guitar sat lonely and untouched.

"This is gonna be some performance." Benson said to Al, looking up at nothing.

"You're familiar with the Gibson ES-175?"

Benson looked at Al suspiciously. "Yeah…"

Al clasped his hands together. "You're gonna have to play for the fallen Edward."

Benson felt his jaw clench. "No."

"Yes!" Al shouted. "I'd get a stagehand but I don't trust those little turds. No talent whatsoever. I promise it's just for the first three songs, then we'll switch with… Someone. Anyone. But you gotta play the first three songs."

"This is becoming a _revolving_ show? Who'll play the drums?"

"One of the stagehands." Al gave him a pointed look as he ran to stick his head from the doorway to yell impatiently, "Yo! Bass player kinda needs his _bass_!"

"The stagehands aren't good enough for Eddy's guitar… But they just _barely_ passed the level of competence to play the drums? You do know that sounds kind of insulting, right?"

"I know you don't like people stepping on your toes. You can play the drums until your heart's content, but right now I need you to play the guitar. I don't trust anyone else. Please, Ben?" Al grabbed hold of Benson's shoulders and made the most sickeningly painful face. "Please."

_That face… It still works on me, apparently. _

"Fine. _Fine_. I'll play **only **the first three songs. But what-"

"Gentlemen! You really need to move it out!" Another stagehand shouted as he walked past.

Al nudged grabbed Benson in one hand and Eddy's guitar in the other. "We'll go over the specifics later. But now? It's Showtime!"

A skinny, Italian guy with light facial hair came onstage with a keyboard and a shy smile. When he started to play and sing the guy had a whispery voice, which told Mordecai he wasn't really used to the spotlight. Mordecai realized he was playing _Take On Me _with a slow tempo which calmed restless patrons. Not that they were rowdy to begin with.

Mordecai checked around himself to confirm that, yes, he was in a sea of grade school teachers.

He had found a table with two older women already sitting there; they had decided to let him sit with them due to his 'sweet, helpless look'. He didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.

"You're quite young to be at a B.E.A.T reunion show, sweetheart." The first woman said, smiling brightly.

"Benson is my boss. And a friend. Well. More of a companion. A companion that sorta hates me. Yeah."

_"Talking away... I don't know what. I'm to say..."_

"You _know_ Benjamin? Personally?" The second woman asked as her eyes glazed over. "Honestly know him?"

_Again with the Benjamin crap? _

"Yeah! We work at the city park together."

Mordecai was being over analytical again; that asshole who angsts in his internal monologue, but the second woman's words stung him. Did he know Benson? Sure, he worked for him and knew things about him and his consistent pickings at Benson's past and interests helped Mordecai understand him a little better.

But that didn't really mean he _knew_ Benson.

_"Take... On... Me... Take... Me... On..." _

Mordecai hated reading into people's words too deeply… Margaret helped him realize it only led to trouble.

"Young man, do you understand that you work under one of the greatest musicians of our time?"

"Remember the Pepsi cans, Louise?" The first said to the second. "Benjamin was really the epitome of rock and roll!" The two women giggled to themselves. Mordecai furrowed his eyebrows.

"The Pepsi cans…?"

The second, Louise, explained with glee, "You see, B.E.A.T was much more than a quartet of good looking men in tight jeans parading around on stage-"

"Though we'd love them just the same if they were." The first nameless woman said, with that gross 'Middle Aged Woman Who's Turned On' growl.

_"Or I'll... Be... Gone... In a day or two~!"_

"No, no, no! They were an experience! Not only did they play songs and the occasional _Journey_ cover, but they pulled pranks and told jokes. They were all so witty. But Benjamin… He was the one everyone watched. One show- I remember it like it was yesterday- It was outside, around a children's park, and no one had brought any drinks. As you can imagine, with us being pig-headed teenagers, we were-"

The nameless woman elaborated, "Pissed beyond all reason."

"Yes. Very much so. Benjamin however was cool as a cucumber. He left, then came back ten minutes later with cooler upon cooler of Pepsi cans-"

"They were filled with tequila! And vodka and bourbon for good measure. But can you imagine? So many Pepsi cans filled with alcohol!"

"Holy sh- smokes really?" Mordecai smiled in disbelief.

"Now, looking back, it was very irresponsible of us to have engaged in such behavior." The nameless woman said.

"I totally agree Donna. Irresponsible."

The two women remained serious until they caught each other's gaze, but when that happened they burst into laughter.

_"Take... On... Me... Take... Me... On... C'mon everyone you know the words!"_

"I get it! So if the cops came around they'd just see a bunch of teenagers innocently drinking Pepsi. But wouldn't they smell it on your breaths?"

The one woman named Donna waved her hand. "Honey, back then they just flashed a light, and if you weren't too obvious you were home free. It was like a little Haight and Ashbury down here."

"Such wild lives we led." Louise sighed.

"Benjamin was such a livewire." Donna sighed as well. "I wonder if he's still the same."

_"Or I'll... Be... Gone... In a day or two~!"_ The crowd hushly sang along.

Benson's angry rants and fiery threats to fire him sprung to Mordecai's mind. "He's still really hard to **not** notice."

"I do hope so."

Donna and Louise paid more attention to each other after that, and Mordecai couldn't help but smile at the Pepsi can story. Benson in a band was story enough. But Benson and underage drinking? Benson and being the life of the party? The band favorite? And why did they keep calling him _Benjamin_?

It was obvious at that moment that Mordecai's angsty pondering wasn't off. He didn't know Benson at all.

"Excuse me? Ladies? Why do you keep calling him 'Benjamin'?"

Donna and Louise giggled once more, and Louise answered with an amused grin.

"Because that's his _name,_ sweetheart. What else should we call him?"

Just then, without warning, the lights were cut.

"_Ladies and… Whatever dudes are here…" _

All conversation ceased; the room was completely black.

"_After years and years of vehement demands… Years of hoping and praying…" _

Mordecai could feel a surge of anticipation dance up and down his spine.

"_The guys your mother warned you about!…" _

The first light was a weak yellow, but the more luminous it got the more clearly everyone could see Tim at his keyboard, standing to the right of the stage.

The crowd clapped enthusiastically.

The second light was green and -just like the yellow light- started off weak but got stronger progressively. It introduced them to Al, who's face lit up so brightly he didn't need the spotlight. The audience started to shout and cheer like crazy. A purple light appeared with a stagehand at the drums. He was behind Al, (and donning a electric orange head band) and he was _way _too excited to be there. Everyone said a collective, "Huh?" at the unknown drummer.

But before they thought about it too much, a red light slowly (Ever. So. Slowly.) revealed Benson strapped up with a white and gray guitar and standing to Al's left.

They. All. Went. Batshit.

**Seriously. **

Mordecai never heard so much screaming, and crying, and screeching, and so many "!"'s.

And that was from the _dudes_. Benson seemed to be nervously laughing at the crowd's reaction, and he said something to Al, who laughed as well.

"_Please! Clap your hands! Stomp your feet! And knock one or twelve back, for the goddamn hair metal masters… B.E.A.T!" _

If at all possible, the cheering and yelling and hooting got even louder, and Mordecai was joining in. He yelled for his boss, and Al, and the super tall keyboardist… Not really caring Benson had a guitar and some sweaty stagehand was at the drums instead.

_B.E.A.T was real. It's not some memory trapped in Benson's photos. It __**is**__ real! I can see it!_

"Have you missed us?" Al said into the microphone coyly.

They answered with a reverberating "**YES!**"

Al took the mic from his stand and started to pace the tiny stage like a panther on the hunt. His bass hung from his body as he went on the prowl. He laughed like a hyena, "You missed all of us?" They gave the same answer, with glass mugs chattering and wailing screams. Benson teetered back and forth. He didn't look at the crowd head on; just glancing and smiling shyly to be polite. Mordecai felt himself smile at his boss's awkwardness. "You didn't miss _all _of us…" Al snickered. He was loving it. They worshipped him; every word he said was more important than the last. "You just missed **one** guy in particular."

"I know for damn sure it wasn't me." Tim joked, shrugging off the fact he was the least favored member.

"And I'm pretty sure you guys don't like me _too_ much." Al said.

"I love you Albert Hanna!" said a woman with wild bleach blonde hair and an apparently old B.E.A.T t-shirt she made herself.

"I love you too drunken groupie!"

Al threw a wristband at her, and she caught it. Mordecai felt himself make a disgusted face when she started to sniff it. "But the rest you… I'm curious… Who did you miss the _most_? Just yell his name!"

"Benjamin!" They all screamed.

"What?"

"_Benjamin!_"

"One more time!"

"**BENJAMIN!**"

Benjamin… Benson… Shook his head and smiled a little more confidently. Mordecai looked at the way he debated whether or not to say something; going to the mic then bashfully retreating. Mordecai saw the gumball machine morph into a teenager again. Long brown hair going every which way. Youthful eyes lighting up and hiding from other gazes. Up on that little stage, he had that thing he apparently lost after whatshername dumped him. He was so shy then. And vulnerable, and nervous, and, and…

_Is this what it feels like?… To look at someone's emotional insides? _

It was addicting to say the least. Mordecai could tell he was seeing the real Benson (or whoever) for the first time in two years and it excited him. More. He wanted to see more.

"Don't be so shy Benji… Say hello to your adoring fans!" Al goaded Benson, nodding his head towards the audience.

Benson mouthed something to Al, he was smiling but his eyes were sharp. That told Mordecai his words were not friendly. Al shrugged and laughed at him. Benson rolled his eyes and talked himself into going up to the microphone. Benson cleared his throat. He took a breath.

"He-"

"Benjamin! Benjamin! Benjamin! **Benjamin!**"

They chanted his name (Common opinion says it's Benjamin…) and that just seemed to make him more nervous. Mordecai wanted to tell them all to shut up, that they were making him nervous and he won't say anything if they keep yelling like maniacs, but Benson finally pushed through the noise.

"Hello."

Everyone quieted down a bit. Mordecai heard Donna and Louise speak at lighting speed: "It's him!" "Of course it's him!" "He looks the same!" "He looks better!" "He's so adorable in those boots!" "They look a little big for him..."

"Eddy," Al took the reigns back. "Haha.. Eddy isn't with us right now-"

"We all know Eddy has a habit of getting the party started a little too soon." Tim quipped.

That got some laughs. Benson laughed weakly; it wasn't that funny to him.

"So Big Ben will be playing guitar tonight." He paused for reaction and 'ohs!' and 'awes' commenced.

"And I'll be on the drums! Sammy Jaguar's on the hunt tonight, Woo hoo!" The replacement drummer yelled into Al's microphone after getting up and snatching it from him.

Cue the cliché audience silence, followed by the ever awkward yet hilarious cricket sound.

Al quickly took the mic back and held it away from his mouth, but Mordecai could still catch some keywords: "Go back… Bash your head… Only for three songs…" He waited until the embarrassed Sammy Jaguar sat down to speak again. Positive no more outbursts were coming from him anytime soon, Al informed them all. "It's a revolving show tonight." More cheers. More promises of love. "If you were around for the later shows in eighty seven, then you know the drill. So…" Al turned to Benson. "What should we play?"

Benson shrugged inaudibly, obviously still tense, and Al laughed at him again. It was the way Benson reacted to Al's laughing-affectionate annoyance- that made Mordecai unintentionally cringe.

"I'm feeling some _Journey_ right now." Tim said, cracking his knuckles.

Al tapped his bass absentmindedly. "Mmm. Perhaps… I'm open to suggestions."

When Al said that, a wave of demands flew outwards and towards the stage. _Genesis_ ("Eh", Mordecai said to himself.), _Foghat_ ("I never heard of them…"), more requests for _Journey_ ("Sure!"), _ABC_ ("Ick."), _Jackson Browne_ ("Who?") and some dude with no hair and a "walrus" sounding voice wanted to hear some _Bee Gees_.

_Wrong decade, poser… _

Mordecai at first was going to yell _Wreckless Eric_, but when he thought about it longer than necessary he decided against it. It would have felt weird. He would ask to put on some _Wreckless Eric_, afterwards. When they got home. When only he could listen to it while Benson supervised (Benson was very protective of his music). He would appreciate it more if it was just them listening; no screaming to ruin it all. Mordecai watched as Benson stepped up to the microphone. Middle aged men and women hooted and hollered the second they saw the gumball machine move back towards his mic. Benson sheepishly smiled as he began to speak again. "Going to need a song to play eventually folks…" he said, shaky and aloof.

"Benson! I fricking love you! I fricking love you!" an obviously drunk woman yelled towards the stage.

"I love you too miss…" Benson said, and in a lower, more uncomfortable voice. Then he added, "Put your shirt back on…"

Mordecai cheered for his boss once more, and realized what he wanted to hear them play. It was so obvious; why didn't anyone else think of this band? Mordecai cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted over the inebriated soccer moms: "Yo! Let's hear some _ASIA_! Play _'Heat of the Moment'!_"

The crowd agreed almost instantaneously. The rest of the band felt the same. Benson's eyes flickered up and the gumball machine smiled wide at Mordecai's request. That was the minute Mordecai saw it. That fervor; that fire Pops was telling him about. Why wasn't Benson always like this? Or maybe he was? Maybe Benson showed glimpses of his true self only when no one was looking. Or maybe… Mordecai lost his train of thought. Up on stage, with the electric guitar in hand, Benson looked on into the audience. At Mordecai. Into Mordecai's eyes. Benson stared right into Mordecai's eyes and said, clear as a bell into the mic:

"This is yours."

Benson immediately played the intro chords, with the Sammy Cougar (_Whatever!_) dude hitting his cue. Benson repeated the chords once more, and Al sang out,

"_I never meant to be so bad to you." _Al's eyes flickered to Benson, who wasn't paying attention to him but trying to get his fingering right.

The audience, including Mordecai, sang back: _"One thing I said that I would never do!"_

"_A look from you and I would fall from grace… And it would wipe the smile right from my face…" _Al leaned into the microphone as he sang, heartbroken bellow and all._ "Do you remember when we used to dance?" _Al's eyes noticeably jumped from Benson to the crowd, sometimes lingering on longingly. Benson pretended not to notice. _"When incidents arose from circumstance…" _Then it was Al's body that was shifted towards Benson, completely conspicuous. _"One thing lead to another we were young. And we would scream together songs unsung…" _

The entire band sang the chorus together. _"It was the he~at of the moment, telling me what your heart meant. The he~at of the moment… Showed in your eyes." _

And with the verses and choruses spinning together, they are did there part to sound as one. Mordecai couldn't believe how much they sounded like the actual band, the same percussion arrangement and synthesizer sound effects… And Benson.

_"And when your looks are gone and your alone..."_ Al didn't look at Benson when he sang that line; he receded into himself and layed on the sadness. He really was a performer. _"How many nights you sit beside the phone? What were the things you wanted for yourself? Teenage ambitions you remember well..."_ Al sang the chorus alone that time, and he was definitely looking straight at Benson. He positioned his body to obviously face him. Mordecai thought that was... Odd. But the women in the audience were really getting into it. _"It was the he~at of the moment..."_

"Donna! Oh! Donna! Al's _singing_ to Benjamin!" Louise squealed.

"How do you know? Maybe he's just... Standing like that to give Benson pointers." Mordecai had to yell over everyone else. It was a stupid question. Of course Al was singing to Benson/Benjamin.

Donna laughed, "Albert Hanna loves to give Benson pointers! But that's usually _after_ the show!"

Mordecai didn't talk about it any further. He just continued to watch his boss up on stage.

When Benson's crowning moment came he did not shrink back into the background. He stood proud and confident and made the guitar sing out into the audience. Benson's good vibes were caught by Mordecai, and he sent them right back. It was like a invisible link between them. Mordecai was sure that he was making it up though. Benson was only looking at him because he was a safe, familiar face. The more he thought about, Benson dedicating the song to him could've been in his head as well.

But it still felt _good_ to think it was real.

A giant smile permanently plastered onto his face as he played. It was the first time Mordecai saw Benson smile so genuinely. It was weird. 'Happy' and Benson weren't together often. But when they were, it was… Refreshing. He really should have been like that all the time. Despite all of the revelations and emotional connections that may or may not have been real, Mordecai was troubled For many reasons. The weird looks Al sent Benson as he "sang" to him were getting harder to ignore. Albert Hanna was probably the kind of dude you didn't hang around too much, because then you'd start to notice shit that was better off unnoticed. But Mordecai's other worry, the other thing that troubled and soured the experience a little bit for him, was that the entire time Benson was up there, being the new person he was supposedly always was... Mordecai didn't want to be enjoying as much as he was. He did want to see B.E.A.T, so he could see it for himself, but Pop's words. He knew he wouldn't fall in love with Benson just because the dude could play instruments well... But... He just knew if he went home and told Pops he felt _nothing_... Nothing at all when Benson was up on stage... He'd be lying.

At the risk of sounding more like an annoying twentysomething that thinks to much, Mordecai asked himself how he was supposed to go about satisfying this new, foreign (undesired) curiousity.

He concluded he had to get more nosy.

_A/N: Okay, first things first, "Heat of the Moment" ain't mine, copyright the dudes from ASIA. Second, to anyone who makes music or is involved with that scene, I apologize for my ignorance. You can tell I don't know anything about it. But I have a feeling you guys don't read this for the music theory. ;) Third, updates will be sporadic, as school is a bitch and cuts my writing schedule to bits. But, this is the point where the story goes into to M territory. So. Tell your friends! _


	16. Chapter 16

"JesusMaryJohnGeorgeRingoPaul! You guys! _You guys_!" Mordecai babbled.

"Please, please… You're welcome." Tim said, quite smugly.

Al said, not to anyone in particular, "That Sammy guy is a weird one."

"And Benson." Mordecai said, turning to his boss with bright eyes. "Benson. You were amazing." Benson could feel a warmth at Mordecai's compliment. He didn't like it.

"Thanks." he said. It wasn't enthusiastic or overly gracious. Just a run of the mill courtesy 'thank you'.

"I'm serious! Like, I knew you played the drums and all, but you never said you could play other instruments! You were a rock star up there!" Mordecai gushed. He added, in his mind, _"I've never seen you so differently." _

"Thanks again." Benson said, a bit more kindly.

"No, like, really. You really don't get how awesome that was!"

"Just give the guy some emotion to work with Benj-" Tim paused when he got a death glare from Benson. "Ben-_sin_." Benson didn't want this newfound appreciation. From old B.E.A.T fans it was overwhelming, but bearable. But for some reason when the adoration came from Mordecai it felt like… He didn't exactly know. He knew it wasn't a good feeling. Benson saw the way Mordecai looked at him, and the way it screamed 'I Think You're the Second Coming'. Maybe it was the genuine way Mordecai spoke or how Benson really, for one reason or another, wanted Mordecai to mean what he was saying.

He tried to sound appreciative. "I'm flattered. Really."

"You should be." Mordecai grinned.

He saw that, and Benson nodded with a small grin of his own. "Well I really am. Thank you." Tim looked between the two and openly snickered.

"Bird Guy's getting laid tonight~."

A revolving show, implemented by Albert Hanna, was the stupidest and most genius concept ever introduced into the performing arts. Al went onstage after the agreed upon three songs and played with the three fans quick enough to hop onstage. A husband and wife team sang the B.E.A.T original song "Alexander" while that Sammy Tiger guy refused to get off the drums. (Al snatched up his bass and Tim's synthesizer at the last minute). Now back in the day, they'd play a song or two, then Al would get off stage and Tim would take his place and get some other fans to fill in the gaps. Sometimes Benson would go, then Tim and Al, Al and Eddy, Eddy and Benson… When they were just starting out it caused riot after riot. Over time the fans mellowed out, respectfully waiting and pardoning themselves, much to Sammy Cougar's dismay.

"Come on! Rock and roll doesn't say 'please' and 'thank you'!"

All of it was visual adrenaline for Mordecai. The drunken bellows, the women, the new rushing feelings he got just sitting there with what he was sure was the greatest band in the freakin' city.

_And Benson. _

"I say we celebrate. Blue, go get us some drinks!" Tim exclaimed. Al perked up while Benson looked panicked. As Mordecai smiled and got up but Benson objected.

"Oh no. Mordecai, no."

Benson halted his employee with a hand. Tim, Mordecai and Al furrowed their eyebrows. "I just… I don't want any."

Al seemed genuinely confused, "Why the hell not?"

Benson closed his eyes. The laughing and shouts from the other patrons made it hard to think. "I… Don't really… Drink. At all. Anymore."

Al was definitely confused. "You're shitting me."

"No, no… I shit you not."

The other three looked at him like he just admitted to being a serial killer. It certainly felt like it. Al laughed and snapped his fingers at Mordecai. "Get some drinks Blue."

"Sure!" Mordecai got up immediately (any other time, the whole finger snapping thing would have gotten Al a _very_ different response from Mordecai.)

Al slapped Mordecai on the back and smiled hard. "It's on me."

When Mordecai was out of earshot, Benson hissed, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"One drink isn't going to turn you into Billy Carter, Benji. Calm down."

"Do not call me that!" Benson put his face in his hands. "One drink- _One drink!_ You know just as well I as I do one will turn into five then- "

"Then we'll call it a night and send you and your doting new wave boyfriend home."

"He's not new wave. More hipster. Think Gabe Saporta." Tim said, considering whether or not the reference was appropriate. Al nodded understandingly and Benson looked about ready to blow a fuse. It was very frustrating arguing with someone so deep in their belief…It was like being around 9/11 conspiracy theorists.

"He's not my boyfriend. And once Mordecai drinks his fill, we're leaving."

Tim laughed. "Sure order him around like he was your boyfriend."

Benson's jaw clenched. Al laughed as well. "You and Blue can go home… Snuggle in the covers on a cold night like this. Instead of staying out all night like us exciting single folks."

"I've been married for fifteen years." Tim scowled. Al smirked, and it was the accusing tone and the way he challenged him with his body language that really irked Benson.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Me? Nothing. Nothing at all. Just that this 'hipster' bird guy of yours obviously took the bite from your bark." Benson shook his head and laughed humorlessly.

"I don't have to prove anything to you, _Albert_."

"Spoken like a guy who has everything to prove. _Benjamin_."

Tim looked between his two band mates. The tension rose and settled uncomfortably; Tim coughed and clapped his hands together. "So! Let's talk about those groupies!"

"If I wasn't trying to stay away from booze, which I am… I would-"

"You'd gather us all around the fireplace and tell us the fascinating way salt water taffy is made." Al mocked playfully.

"Al! Tell us about that gig you set us up with later! It's at some house uptown. There's gonna be clown exotic dancers! That sure is different…"

"You and I both know I could out drink you." Benson voice became low and antagonizing. "Compared to me, you were a goddamn teetotaler."

"Yeah. _Back in the day_. What do you do nowadays? Drink macchiato with Blue and talk about your vegetarianism? Ha! You two… You two are just too cute."

"I heard somebody's bringing a falcon! A freakin' flacon! Why? I have no idea!"

Al straightened up and leaned in closer to meet Benson. "If I were you Ben, I'd stay away from guys younger than thirty. They really show your age."

"Benson! They'll be some hipster guys for ya! They always seem to pop up at these sorta parties. See! Everybody gets laid! Just stop figh-"

"I'm the **youngest** member of this band!" Benson said pointedly.

Al smiled sharply. "Could've fooled me."

Mordecai walked up to the bar and saw the short, handle bar mustached bartender lazily wiping the counter. He made eye contact with Mordecai and interrupted him before he even spoke.

"A Dalmatian."

"Wha-"

The bartender cleared his throat and said again, in a really tired sounding voice, "You seem down. A Dalmatian will perk you right up."

"Uh… I'm actually pretty stoked." Mordecai said laughing.

"One for the gumball machine guy then. He looks-" Mordecai and the bartender turned around to see Benson arguing with Al. His teeth gnashed and his words were sharp, Mordecai could tell even though he couldn't hear his boss over the chatter and yelling. "A little uptight. Hehe."

"Yeah… He's like that sometimes."

The bartender leaned in and whispered with a sly grin, "Most uptight people in the world are pretty crazy when you liquor them up. Case and point." Handle Bar Bartender pointed at the stage to see Louise and Donna up there, murdering "Your Love".

"_I dan wanna 'ooze your luve toniiiiight!" _They sang in sloppy unison. They voices were high-pitched and he could just barely make the words out. _"I doon wan tah ooose you luve, TONIIIIIGHT!"_

… _Idea!_

It was juvenile, he acknowledged that much. So he couldn't just jump into it. Mordecai made unsure noises. "I… Was told not to take any recommendations."

"By who? Grumpy Gumball Machine Guy? He your mother now? He gonna but a parental block on your television when you get home?"

"He only put that parental block on for Pops' sake!" Mordecai defended himself. "I even know the password!" The Handle Bar took some brown liquor, with something Mordecai assumed was vodka, and then finally some seltzer and poured all of the liquids in four glasses. He shoved them in Mordecai's direction and whistled.

"Stay thirsty."

Mordecai carried the four "Dalmatians" back to the table where everyone was sitting. Tim and Al cheered while Benson's eyes widened, and his mouth became a thin line.

"Dalmatians? Holy shit! Haven't had one these since eighty-eight!" Tim laughed heartily. He took one and gulped it down. He smacked his thin lips a couple of times and contently grinned. "The brown liquor is new."

Al was nostalgically amused as well, "You can handle this Blue? It seems a little," he moved his hands as he tried to think of a word, "_Too much _for you."

"Nah, it's cool… Just a classic Dalmatian." Mordecai said with a shrug. His voice smooth and blasé as he grabbed a Dalmatian and held it with one wing. "A little of this, a little of that. Kid stuff."

"You haven't the slightest clue what is in that drink!" Benson pointed at him with a critical scowl. Mordecai ignored Benson's correct accusation and smiled.

"I actually ordered it with you in mind. Loosen you up, y'know?" Mordecai lowered his voice and let a mischievous smile curl into his beak.

Mordecai knew he sounded like those creepy dudes in… Well, a _bar_, but it was all he could pull out on such short notice. The first step to lying (As Rigby told him time and time again) was that believing the lie. If you believe, everyone else will believe it. Because honestly, Mordecai saw no better way to get some dirt on Benson.

_Drunk men are honest men, after all. _

"And now I think you roofied the drinks." Benson impassively.

"C'mon Benson! Don't look at it as your employee giving you a drink. Instead, I'm a _fan_ of yours giving you a drink! To congratulate you on doing such a kick-ass job!" Mordecai was literally vibrating by that point.

Benson began, "Mordecai..."

"Gramps…" Al said under his breath, making so only Benson heard him. Benson shot him an evil look, but Al shrugged. Tim just looked the other way with a strained face, trying oh so hard not to die of laughter.

_Really? Four years of sobriety and I'm going to throw it all away for Mordecai? Mordecai! The guy who smokes weed near the jungle gym when he thinks I'm not looking? The guy who complains and whines on and on and on about doing the most menial of tasks… The guy who killed those horrible plants for me… And saved me for that killer snowman… The guy who thinks my life is… Fascinating… _

"… I'll drink one."

The table cheered and many back slaps fell upon Benson back, which he uncomfortably smiled in response to. Just then, the two older women Mordecai had shared a table with came to the them laughing their heads off. They looked unsure if it was okay for them to approach, but when they got closer and closer Al's eyes squinted more and more, until they widened in recognition and he shot up like a rocket to greet the middle aged women.

"Well tie me down and use the Vaseline generously! If it isn't the _Sugar Sisters!_" Al hugged the both of them, lifting them up, spinning them round until they had to asked to be put down and a barrage of girlish squeals and giggles escaped their mouths at a mile a minute. "How long has it been?"

"Too long Albert!" Donna squeaked.

"Centuries!" Louise added.

Mordecai whispered questioningly to Tim, "Sugar Sisters?"

"Google it, Blue." Tim simply said, a smile creeping onto his face to tell Mordecai he _really _did need to google it.

"You two! _You! Two! _Jesus, it just wouldn't be a B.E.A.T show without you." he hooted. Al stood over the two, grinning the way that Mordecai did when he would "accidentally" bump into Margaret. "You were the only reason I showed up sometimes."

Benson examined his hands.

"Thank you, Albert~!" Donna and Louise said in a sing-song manner.

"No, seriously! How about you two join us for a drink after we finish off these Dalmatians?" Their eyes landed on Benson and they waved at him. Benson waved back stiffly, and the two women tittered like infatuated teenagers.

"Sure!" Donna answered for the both of them. They stopped for a moment and focused on Benson. Benson met their gaze and slapped a smile on.

"I'd love to share a drink with B.E.A.T's biggest fans."

They grabbed each other's hands and jumped up and down while Benson took a Dalmatian. His eyes went to the floor. If he had had any mirth before, the apparent "Sugar Sisters" sucked it out of him. Al bent over, blew the women a kiss and grabbed the fourth Dalmatian. "To B.E.A.T!"

"To B.E.A.T!" The band members said as they raised their glasses.

Mordecai, noticing Benson's change in behavior, raised his glass and chirped "To Ben!"

Benson was taken aback by Mordecai shortening his name. It was entirely too intimate for his liking and he didn't exactly need to be wondering what _that_ meant when the **freakin**' Sugar Sisters were there… Near him… Laughing. The others finished their drinks, when Donna and Louise volunteered to get more (Benson no thanks, he was not drinking anymore. Really. No more.) and Al poked Benson underneath the table. He excitedly said to his drummer in a rushed voice,

"I can't believe the _Sugar Sisters _are here, Ben! Can you believe it? I can't! You remember them right?" Benson looked Al in the eyes and smiled sweetly, right before he kicked him in the shin. Hard. "Yep!" Al shouted, obviously in pain but laughing it off. "So you _do_ remember them!"

_11:15pm _

Benson sat with Tim as he observed the others dance around and make fools of themselves. Donna, Louise and Mordecai were dancing in this… Circle… Thing. Considering most of the people there looked like they had work in the morning, the jumping up and the bumping against each other suggestively was a wee bit out of place. Al, Sammy Salamander and a guy who introduced himself as "Ro-Ro" were playing "Let Her Dance".

The intro chords reminded Benson of the Monkees, their style at least. Al was above decent with the vocals when one takes into account he was kind of tripping over his feet (_Al isn't even moving. How does that even happen?) _butAl playing Eddy's guitar was priceless. His fingers tried to be everywhere at once and it was just a miracle everyone was as tipsy as him at that point in the night.

"_There she goes with a brand new love affair, dancing with him like she don't even care! Well let her dance with him, let her dance all night long_!"

"_Let her dance, dance; let her dance, dance_!" Ro-Ro sang in a surprising alto.

He really was fine, years of building up an immunity to the effects of alcohol works wonders… Not without a price mind you, but Benson had three drinks, he promised himself that was it and if Al didn't like that he could have taken a flying jump. Tim nodded along mindlessly to the music; his goofy smile growing wider with each chord. "Funny song choice!" Tim yelled over the sound.

Benson's face twisted in confusion. "What makes you say that?"

Tim continued to move his head as he answered back. "Well! You got the Sugar Sisters, who you hate-"

"I don't-"

"And before you even say it, yes you do! We all know you hate them! So you got those two groupies then, dancing for Al! We also got Al, your old dildo, shuffling up a storm for the menopausal Martha Stuart twins! You'll like the guy in the song!"

Benson played dumb, "I'm not following!"

"_I'll get a new love and then she'll see! Someone else will be dancing with me! Oh let her dance with him, let her dance all night long!" _

Donna and Louise had abandoned Mordecai and joined Al on stage, going on either side of him. They made a human sandwich, with Al happily snug in the middle as they grinded against him.

"The song is about a woman!" Benson retorted, wishing Tim would just drop it.

"No, the song's about sitting alone in a bar watching somebody you're obviously still hung up about live their life!" Tim shouted with triumph. "God forbid that Veronica chick walk in!"

Tim stopped nodding for a moment and locked eyes with Benson. He was uncomfortable and upset and godammit that song seemed to go on _forever_…

"You say the most ridiculous shit when you're drink! You know that, right?" Benson shouted back.

"You wanna forget about Al and the Sweet and Lows? You gotta dance Benson! You gotta let yourself dance!"

"_Let her dance, dance; let her dance, dance… Whoo!"_

Tim stood up from his seat and twirled the nearest woman around. Benson blinked many times, before looking over at the stage again to see Donna and Louise kissing up and down Al's neck. His smile was pure white, and it reflected the stage lights.

Through the gyrating crowd, Mordecai observed Benson get up and order a white Russian from Handle Bar.

_2:03am _

Another white Russian later, Benson was up on stage with a just as drunk Mordecai who was hopping all around in the background, shouting.

"Sing the shit out of that song, Ben!"

Benson hopped too, sometimes bumping into Mordecai and they both laughed. He wasn't that drunk, really he wasn't, and to prove it he sang/yelled the lyrics to a song in his head that didn't exist until twenty minutes ago. No one who was drunk could make up a song on the spot.

"Gumbly! Grumbly! Gumball machine~!" Benson threw down Eddy's guitar and took the microphone from it's stand. He decided that he would directly address his fans. "Hey! You guys know I play for the other team, right?"

The audience members sober enough to know what Benson said cheered in confirmation.

"Yeah! And! And! You know that, some people are scared to admit that about themsel-" Benson paused to swallow down stomach contents trying to escape his esophagus. "They're hate themselves. They… They hate themselves _so _much… They do anything to, to, to… Be different! They… Oh for just a random example… Have _sex_ with _women_! Not just any women," Benson snickered. He sat down on the stage. "Women that named themselves after condi- condi-" The undigested food was coming back up with a vengeance. "Shit you put on food."

Donna and Louise clung to Al like barnacles, but Al watched Benson intently with a face as red as a tomato. He sat in a booth with the women (who Mordecai was shocked to learn really lived up to the term 'groupie') and watched Benson basically foam at the mouth. The madder Benson got, the redder he turned.

"Just think how miserable those people must be! All around the world! In America! In this city!… Sitting in this bar! Doesn't that make you _sick_?"

Donna and Louise were getting upset that Al wasn't paying attention to them anymore. Was he embarrassed? Because anyone could tell Benson was talking about him. No… He just wanted to see how far Benson would go.

Benson was all out yelling at that point, and the crowd had no idea what he was saying but wanted a reason to scream nonsense. They all agreed with a monstrous roar, "Yeah!"

"It pisses me off too! It makes me wanna grab the closest guy and… And…"

Benson looked behind his shoulder and there Mordecai was, enjoying Benson's little rant. Before he knew what he was doing, Benson grabbed Mordecai's face and kissed him so hard it felt as if he was trying to rip Mordecai's lungs out using just his mouth. Mordecai's eyes became the size of Jupiter and his brain pretty much told him he was on his own. Benson had dropped the mic and wrapped his arms around Mordecai's neck as he tried his best to dig his tongue in Mordecai's unresponsive mouth. It was over before Mordecai decided whether or not he liked it.

Benson pulled away and was breathing like he was running a marathon, were as Mordecai grabbed at his chest, feeling his heart beat. It was going at lighting speed and it felt like it was going to explode and why was he getting this floating feeling?

No one said a word. Even Donna and Louise stopped necking Al (who no longer was red but was very, very confused). From the middle of the crowd, Tim popped up and clapped his hands.

"Ben's doing the bird guy!"

Everyone once again cheered, and Benson frowned. Looking in Al's direction, he picked up the mic again and yelled for everyone to hear, "Lesson for tonight! Making out with an employee just to make a point is _a billion _times worse then sleeping with groupies to make you straight! Hanna!" After a sarcastic bow he left the stage and headed towards Handle Bar Bartender.

Al seemed unfazed, as no one was as concerned with Benson calling him out as much as they were flipping out about the drummer of B.E.A.T apparently screwing a bird guy.

Mordecai, despite all of this, was still floating.

It crashed to Earth before he decided whether or not he wanted to come down.

_5:40am _

Mordecai held up Benson as they walked into the house.

Benson told him to grab his shit and start walking with him, and being sloshed made a fifteen minute walk into a thirty minute odysessy from the Ulysses. His boss was stumbling over himself and laughing at nothing, which in turn made Mordecai laugh and lose his balance, which made them fall into the hallway with the staircase together. Benson held onto to his stomach as he laughed harder, and turned his body to Mordecai.

"I hope he can't get it up when he tries to screw them!" Mordecai didn't say anyhting, but instead tried to get his legs to work. They weren't being cooperative. "I hope he just sees_ me_ when he gets them naked…" Benson snarled, then laughed out loud and all through the house. "You were so _shocked_ when I kissed you! Shockshockshocked!" Benson did a little happy dance while on his back, happily telling the ceiling the exploits of that night.

"Shush… You're going to wake Pops…" Mordecai chuckled. He unintentionally moved closer to Benson.

"Pops is fine! Pops is great! I think Pops can survive me not thinking about him for _five minutes!"_ Benson laughed breathily. He let himself calm down and sigh contently. What an odd night out it was. Benson certainly felt better, now that he had said what he was thinking, and a rush of memories came back. Mostly of him, at shows, telling people off and cracking jokes and being… Himself. He was like this all the time, a long time ago.

"Mordecai?" He asked suddenly.

Mordecai turned his head around to see Benson staring no longer at ceiling, but in his eyes. Benson's stream of thought always jumped around and confused him when he was drunk. As different contorted shapes messed up his vision, Benson let the alcohol unravel him.

"Yeah?"

"I wasn't always… I just wanted to let you know I wasn't always... Exhausting."

Benson could feel the distance between them shrink.

"You're not exhausting Benson." Mordecai said sympathetically. "I didn't mean that." Benson turned his body towards Mordecai's. Mordecai did the same.

"Then what did you mean by what you said?"

Mordecai closed his eyes, trying to think. "What did I say?"

"You know! What you said before."

"I didn't mean that."

"You didn't mean what?"

"What I said!"

"What did you say?" Benson laughed. Mordecai's shoulders were touching Benson's.

"I don't even remember what day it is." Mordecai groaned with a hint of amusement.

Benson wasn't smiling. It felt like Mordecai was dancing around the issue. He swallowed hard and said bluntly, "Do you hate me?" Mordecai didn't open his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled calmly. Did he? Did he _ever_? Hate is a really harsh word. Mordecai rubbed his forehead.

"I used to dislike you… Now I think I like you more than I should. More than an employee is supposed to like his boss." Benson felt the oak floor underneath them, and how cool it was against his metal dermis.

"I would probably hate me."

"Don't say that."

"Why the hell not? Before any of this Jerry McGuire… B.E.A.T, reunion crap happened you hated me. Rigby hates me. Skips _tolerates_ me-"

"Skips definitely _just_ doesn't tolerate you. And I said I _disliked_ you. And the others guys… Look. They don't hate you, Benson. They just think you're… Y'know."

Benson opened his eyes. He sat up straight and saw the man beside him. Mordecai almost looked like he was sleeping. "They think I'm _exhausting_."

Mordecai sensed Benson's contact disappear and he sat up as well. Opening his eyes he realized they were almost in complete darkness excluding the night lights spread around, thanks to Pops (and Rigby to a small degree). "That's only because they don't know you. If everyone at the park saw you tonight, they'd share my opinion of you right now."

"What's that?" Benson laughed bitterly. "That I drunkenly out ex-boyfriends and shove my tongue down my employees' throats?"

Mordecai gave Benson a smile he couldn't see. "They'd think you were pretty awesome tonight. _And_ that you shove your tongue down your employees throats. But that ties into the awesomeness." Benson tried to make out Mordecai's face in the dark, to see if it bothered him at all. Mordecai must have amazingly read Benson's mind, because he admitted shyly, "It wasn't the worst game of tonsil hockey I've played."

"Oh…"

Benson didn't even know what point the was trying to make when he did that. Whatever it was, it must have been stupid.

"Can we just stop using the word 'exhausting' and call it a night?" Mordecai finally reached a compromise with his legs, but in return he lost his equilibrium. He threatened to topple over when Benson grabbed him at the last minute.

Benson held his forearms and told him awkwardly, "Let me help you upstairs." Though he could tell Benson wasn't really up to it, Mordecai didn't resist; though Benson struggled all the way, he managed to get Mordecai up the flight of stairs. But his room was too far away and he ended up going into the guest room. Pulling the door open was a chore, and he succeeded. A serene blue tint had seeped into the guest room, and the cold winter breeze made the curtains dance. Mordecai felt sleepy already.

"I'll get some blaknkets so you can sleep on the floor." He let Mordecai go but Mordecai's legs failed him once again, this time he flailing around and reaching for Benson to help him up but Benson felt them both fall. "What are you doing we're both going to!-"

"My legs!"

Benson managed to avoid another run in with the oak floor and made them fall onto Benson's mattress.

With Benson beneath him, his eyes panicked and his arms at his side, it was like lying on a plank. Mordecai pushed himself up. The alcohol was a screwing with him more, he had to focus really hard to see the man below him. Benson made no move to get from under him. Mordecai saw the way his mouth was slightly open, and his eyes sorta gazed up at him like he was afraid. Not like Mordecai was going to kill him, but just terrified Mordecai was grossed out by it. Being in a very suggestive position with a gay gumball machine man.

"I'm sorry... Legs don't want to work tonight." Mordecai said quietly. He studied his boss's mouth and wondered if they were really the same that pushed themselves against his a few hours prior. Mordecai tried to make a joke (without the joking tone), "Then again, it could be an excuse to get some from my boyfriend."

Benson moved his arms from his side. He never once broke eye contact with Mordecai as he slowly put his hands against Mordecai's chest. He gently tried to push him off, but Mordecai could tell he wasn't really trying.

"If you keep saying things like that, people will think you're gay."

Mordecai kept looking at Benson's mouth. Benson just kept looking like a turkey on Thanksgiving. Like an out of body experience, Mordecai could see himself go down, as if doing a push-up, and get close enough to Benson's face so he was breathing in the air Benson breathed out. Mordecai saw himself lean his head in and put his beak against Benson's lips, not kissing him, but seeing how he'd react. Mordecai could see Benson's eyes were still wide open and his hands still pressed against Mordecai but he let him stay. So Mordecai started to kiss him, no tongue or anything… Just a simple kiss. Benson's eyes fluttered shut and he kissed back, though his hands still pushed against Mordecai to make sure he didn't get too close.

The floating feeling came back, and Mordecai broke the kiss to say to Benson frustratingly, "Just let me… I just... Please let me…"

And he went right back in, but he pushed Benson's hands away so he could get closer. He left sloppy, punctuated kisses as Benson turned his head away. The funny things he felt that Benson didn't know he had felt until that exact moment stopped him from objecting, and he knew that unfortunately the alcohol wasn't the one giving Mordecai the permission to do whatever he wanted to.

_A/N: So now that this is finished, I'm gonna start writing your requests if you asked for any! And Dentist of Dragons mentioned that they basically download all the music I mention, and I was considering giving you all a list of songs to expect, but godammit they revealed too much about the plot! XD So enjoy this chapter, 17 will be coming when I can get to it, and later, probably after 17, I'm going back to previous chapters to edit; fix mistakes. :)_


	17. Chapter 17

Benson opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. His head was still fuzzy. His mouth was dry. Light spilled in through his window. Benson didn't dare move; his vision didn't get any better with any sudden movements.

_It's feels like… I'm I still asleep? _

He felt the covers were still on top of him. Benson knew he had to get up, check on Pops, clean up any mess he made when coming home with… He quickly turned on his side. No Mordecai. Benson shifted onto his back again. He assumed Mordecai left to his room after realizing who he was sleeping next to. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember last night. Too much tongue, too much weight on top of him, too much _everything_.

"What is _wrong _with me?" Benson groaned to himself. He rubbed his eyelids with both hands and brought his arms down with a huff. Benson felt like lying in bed all day and hating himself. He breathed deeply, sat up whilst yawning, stretched out his arms and opened his eyes to the sight of Lorelei Townsend in front of him. Nose to nose. Her throat and abdomen slashed and exposed all over Benson's bed and her blood painting her face and cocktail dress. Benson backed away quick like a crab towards the headboard of the bed to get away from the mutilated woman. Lorelei bled all over his sheets while Benson stared on frozen with fear. Lorelei looked at him curiously. Then she smiled.

"_Turpis lupis, Mr. Benson. Turpis lupis." _

Benson shot up from the bed and took in hard, gulping breaths. He looked around and it was early morning, eight am, and he frantically pulled the covers off of himself and saw that there was no murdered red head woman hiding underneath them; no blood sloshing around either. Though he still felt sick to his stomach.

"Wha- What's wrong, Ben?" Mordecai asked, rubbing his eyes. He had lost his glasses, and more than likely couldn't see much past Benson's outlined shape. Benson felt sick to his stomach for a whole different reason. Benson slapped both hands over his own mouth, ran out of the room, then into the bathroom across the hall. Mordecai quickly followed suit. "Benson!"

His stomach emptied out into the toilet, and Benson didn't stop vomiting until Mordecai started knocking gently.

"Go away…" Benson groaned. He listened to himself. He sounded like a whiny Frankenstein.

Mordecai laughed lightly, "Alcohol get to you?"

"Go _away_!" Benson repeated. He got up and went to the sink to clean his face. Mordecai stood outside the bathroom door, unsure of what to do. He wasn't an expert on One Night Stand etiquette. At least not when the other person's a dude…

"Is this because of the whole… Doing each other? Cause we can pretend that never happened, if you want."

Sliding down on the locked bathroom door, Benson shook his head. This was all too much in the morning. Lorelei, the blood, her smile… A voice that sounded vaguely familiar spoke in Benson's mind, _"Just tell Bird Man to leave now, _sputnik_." _Benson had no idea who was speaking into his head with an odd accent, but whoever it was had some sense.

Benson basically pleaded, "Just go, _please_!"

_And last night, and the weight of Mordecai on top of me, and how it felt Mordecai was unraveling me and making room… _

"Are you sure? 'Cause you sound really out of it. I don't want to leave and see that you pulled a Kurt Cobain."

"Dobra_! Bird Man is persistent, yes?" _the voice laughed.

"Please, just go over Don's or the Coffee Shop, I don't CARE, just go!" Benson felt himself gagging again. He really hated his nervous sickness.

Mordecai stared at the door. He hoped that if he stared long enough, he could look through the wood and see how Benson really was. Of course, his newfound concern for his boss was probably just his attempt at… Pillow talk? It would be rude to just say "Hey, thanks for the screw!" and head over to Margaret's. But Benson sounded so _certain_.

"Okay. See you later then." Mordecai looked down at his feet, then at his body, then knocked at the door again. "Ben! You've got-"

The voice, hearing enough said, _"Bird Man is truly annoying. Get him rid of, yes?" _

Benson agreed with the voice. "Don't wake Pops on your way out!" The gumball machine waited for a bit until he was positive Mordecai was gone.

"_Much to talk of sir." _the voice sounded gravely serious. _"Much to talk of indeed…"_

Two great knocks on the bathroom door made Benson stand up in anger. He ripped the door open and began to yell, "I thought I told you-" But instead of seeing Mordecai before him, Benson came face to face with Skips, who raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"The window in the kitchen is broken again," Skips said dully.

Margaret placed Dr. Patricia's book down after finishing the fifth chapter and made a deeply satisfied sound. Never, in the history of her entire life, has Margaret ever been so enthralled by a book. So empowered and inspired and… She even dared to say it was better than _sex_. Margaret had invited Eileen over to discuss what she had read so far, and ask if Eileen was interested in loaning it. Eileen smiled and happily refused.

Briefly looking up from her Whirly Girl magazine, Eileen elaborated, "Thanks Margaret, but I'm sticking with the whole MWAT solitude training."

Margaret scoffed, "The less than trustworthy government ghost hunter program you only joined to get closer to Rigby? Eileen, don't you want to stand on your own two feet?"

"They're actually more like paws." Eileen said, looking down. Margaret sighed. Eileen kept on smiling. "But I'm much more agile than I used to be… I don't get scared when I walk home from work! And you'd be happy to know I don't like Rigby anymore." Margaret slightly sat up on her mahogany sofa.

"_Do_ you know?"

"Mhmm."

"Oh! Finally slept with him?" Margaret assumed.

Eileen was overwhelmed with horror. "No! No, no, no, times one million!"

"That's how it happens for me." Margaret shrugged. She eased her feet on her coffee table and folded her hands on her stomach, which was exposed thanks to the tank top she was wearing being two sizes too small. "Once you see a guy spasm on top of you for thirty seconds the romance has a tendency to… Fizzle."

"Notice how I'm going to ignore you said that and ever so gracefully change the subject." Eileen said with a embarrassing blush. She placed her Whirly Girl magazine down gently and turned in the cushion to face her friend. Eileen felt transported back to middle school, where she would whisper secret crush's names in Margaret's ear. Really low and giggly, Eileen told Margaret, "I think I like Don."

"I knew it! I knew you were dating someone!" Margaret squealed. "The getting off of work early and the lovey-dovey attitude and," Margaret snort-laughed, "Those dorky poems I would find in your work station. Classic secret love affair."

Eileen knew she was grinning like a maniac, but she didn't care.

"They are kinda dorky. But it's sweet at the same time!"

Margaret and Eileen held each other and squealed in unison, until Margaret pulled away and asked (dead serious), "Who is Don again?"

Three loud knocks and a "Please, Margaret, open the door!" cut off Eileen's exasperated answer. Margaret got up from her mahogany couch and went to her apartment door. She went up on her toes to stare though the peephole, and gave Eileen a worried look before opening up.

Mordecai stood before the two women, looking dazed. Eileen hopped up on the couch to stare at him. "Mordecai? Did you walk all the way here?" she asked, noticing he was panting slightly. Eileen then grew concerned when she looked Mordecai over again. "It's winter! And you're not even wearing shoes!"

"Is everything okay?" Margaret said, stepping forward but hesitant to touch him.

Mordecai looked between the both of them, and admitted in a very detached, aloof voice, "I slept with someone."

"So… You smell like booze and mistakes," Skips said to Benson, who was pacing around the living room. Skips had apparently been staying at his own house so he could be there when (not if) some crazy monster attacked. Benson wished he had been in the actual park house the other night to stop Benson from… To prevent the… To make sure everyone slept in their own rooms.

"Four years of sobriety." Benson said, disgusted with himself. "And the one time-one friggin' time- I break it… This shit happens!" the gumball machine made circles around the coffee table while he wringed his hands. "_Unbelievable_." Benson seethed.

Skips said, boringly, "I really think we should get to fixin' that window in the kitchen." Skips' tone became suspicious. "Who knows what could fly in…"

"Did you hear me?" Benson shrieked. "I've done something so foul and disgusting and… I feel like a _Kardashian_."

Skips nodded. "So you did sleep with Mordecai."

"How did…?" Benson felt his body become unresponsive.

"You're wearing his Arcade Fire Shirt." Skips said. Benson looked down at his body and, lo and behold, Mordecai's favorite band shirt was covering his torso. Benson gagged a little. "People do stupid things when they're drunk Benson." Skips assured his boss, but Benson shook his head.

"Not me. Not me _anymore_. Things are going to be horrible from now on!" Benson shouted to the ceiling. He slapped a hand over his face. "I certainly can't be in a room with him anymore. Not without throwing up." Benson steadily became more paranoid. "Oh _God_. Oh God! He could hang this over my head, Skips. He could ask for higher pay and **blackmail **me… If I fired him, he could go to Maellard and BAM! Sexual harassment suit! _Just like that! _Oh God, _Skips!_-"

"Ever think this whole thing upsets you for a whole other reason?" Skips suggested from out of the blue.

Benson stopped pacing. "What do you mean by **that**?"

"Well, does the whole situation drum up feelings that you'd rather…?"

"What? **What? **" Benson put his hands on the coffee table and leaned forward. "No! No! No! Don't you even finish that sentence! You said yourself people do dumb things when they're drunk."

"Okay." Skips held his hands up, letting it go.

"No! _No! _Why would you- No! Why would you even… Please, let's pretend that never even came out of your _mouth_!" Benson wasn't facing Skips anymore. "Just… No. To the umpteenth power!"

Skips subtly squinted his eyes and spoke slower. "Benson. Okay." Benson looked the yeti up and down to make sure the issue was squashed, then down to his own body again. He groaned as he pulled on the Arcade Fire t-shirt.

"I'm wearing his _shirt_…" Benson dragged out his words and threw himself on the sofa, next to Skips. "It's the morning after, and I'm actually wearing his shirt."

"Did he wear a…" Skips sounded uncomfortable. "Did you guys use…?"

Silent at first, Benson internally debated whether or not to tell Skips. "I don't remember." Benson admitted. With a sigh he continued, "But most likely the answer would be 'no'."

And for the first time the conversation started, Skips seemed to be genuinely disappointed in his boss/friend. "Benson. That's…"

Benson turned over and rubbed pads of his hands into his eyes. "I know…"

"Nowadays you don't know what's floating around-"

"I _know_, alright? I took sex ed like everyone else." Benson snapped. Skips was doing the whole "Making Things Sound Worse" thing. "… I was just so… Drunk. He was drunk… Besides, I don't have any. I wasn't expecting to use them while stuck in the house with _Mordecai_." Benson scowled. Skips was going to add something, but Benson put up an angry, halting finger. "And don't you dare say, 'Be careful next time', because there won't ever be a next time. I promise you that."

Skips released a puff of air, and got up from the sofa. "That's the end of it then. Where is he now?"

"I don't know. I told him to leave. He could be anywhere."

"Margaret's…" Skips concluded. Skips looked up at the ceiling. "And Pops is upstairs."

Benson groaned again. "Poor Pops… He probably heard everything… _Oh God_… " Benson laid himself out on the sofa. Skips rolled his eyes. Benson could be melodramatic when the particular situation really bothered him.

"No use crying over spilled milk," Skips walked over to the swinging door that led into the kitchen. "We should really fix that window…"

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Sit down! Sit down now, and dish!" Margaret pushed Mordecai towards her couch (while pushing Eileen off,) and pulled him down to sit. Mordecai stared wide eyed at the robin who sat next to him with even wider eyes. "First things first, on a scale to one to ten rate her performance."

"Wha-?" Mordecai had never seen Margaret so… Excited to hear about his sexual conquests.

"Don't ask him that!" Eileen said. "Mordecai, you don't have to answer that… But what does she look like?"

"One being dead fish and ten being Jenna Jameson." Margaret clarified her rating scale.

"I don't want to-"

"Wait!" Margaret pushed her hands out to stop Mordecai from speaking. "This was recently, right? Is this the morning after? And you're over here? "

"That's why I came over to talk to you." Mordecai listened to himself speak. He had thought that he was taking in the situation calmly, but he noticed the closer he got to Margaret's apartment the faster he walked and last night got clearer and clearer until finally he realized that he had sex with his boss. And he felt _wonderful_. "I slept with someone that I… Really shouldn't have slept with…" Mordecai felt his heart beat faster, and he felt his whole body get restless. He shouldn't have slept with Benson, he acknowledge that much.

Eileen sat on the sofa arm next to Mordecai. "Oh… Was she underage?" Eileen eyed Mordecai unsurely while the blue jay frowned.

"No, Eileen," Mordecai said, confused as to why she would even suggest that.

_If anything, I'd be the underage one in this situation. _

"Oh~… Interspecies romance?" Margaret guessed. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, Mordecai!"

"No! Well, yeah it's… They aren't an animal but that's not why-"

"She's a Satanist?" Eileen offered cheerfully.

"_No_, Eileen," Mordecai said again. Eileen's guesses really illuminated what she thought of Mordecai's taste in women.

"Then what's wrong with the chick?" Margaret asked, frustrated. "Is she secretly a man or something?"

_It's not a secret. _

Margaret leaned forward and waited for Mordecai to continue, while Eileen looked up at him. She was beginning to catch Margaret's fervor. But what could Mordecai say? He couldn't tell them he slept with a dude… A dude who happened to be his boss… A dude who was his boss that was actually pretty cool and likeable underneath it all… Mordecai couldn't tell Margaret and Eileen that. They'd talk. And then people would know, and then… The truth was not an option.

"She… Could be described as a bit of a succubus… Yeah. That's it."

Margaret made an annoyed face. "That's it? She's a little bit bitchy? That's what makes sleeping with her so taboo? If I turned down every guy who appeared to be a little dickish I'd still be a virgin!"

"No I mean… She works at the Coffee Shop, actually and Benson… He, he doesn't like me to hang out with her."

"So?" Margaret asked.

"Well! I sorta got the impression he'd fire me if I went any further, y'know?"

"Now that's something!" Margaret squealed. "A secret love affair based around the work place! Should you follow your heart?… Or your paycheck? Scandalous! Who is it? I bet it's that Belle girl who takes my tips. Friggin witch. No offense, Mordecai."

"None taken. None taken at all." Mordecai smiled slightly to himself.

"This all so romantic!" Eileen exclaimed. "Just think, your love will defrost her icy heart and you'll be together." Mordecai raised an eyebrow but was nonetheless amused by Eileen's optimism. What she was saying didn't seem all that outlandish, anyway.

"I say you go for it. I mean, when it comes to matters of the heart, all other things become secondary." Margaret said. She added, "I learned that in chapter seven, 'Love, Happiness and the Female Orgasm.'" Margaret then placed a warm hand on Mordecai's shoulder. "Take a chance, Mordecai." Usually when Margaret did that a tingle would run up his sides, but then Mordecai only felt… The warmth of Margaret's hand.

"I'm unsure if… I want to pursue _anything_. I mean… You know how Bea… Belle is."

"Cold? Distant? Has that weird thing about balloons?" Eileen said, taking Mordecai's arm and patting it sympathetically.

"_Balloons_? Oh right, yeah, uh, the balloon thing… Would she even want-"

"You stop right there, Shy Guy." Margaret warned sternly. "Any girl who wouldn't want you is either insane or blind. You just have to show Belle you mean business. Show her she's not some mistress to you."

Mordecai nodded. "How would I do that exactly?"

"Woo her!" Eileen jumped up and stood in front of Mordecai. "Find something she really, really, _really_ likes and go from there. **Woo her**!"

"Figure out if you two _want_ to go any further, then 'woo her' or whatever." Margaret was going to suggest simply asking Belle; the whole wooing thing seemed too excessive for her tastes. "It would be a shame if you did all this work and she wasn't interested. Or if you weren't interested. " Margaret explained. Mordecai hugged Margaret close, and she whispered, "But don't fall to hard. I'm the only one allowed to have a broken heart around here." Mordecai hugged Margaret tighter.

"I'm going to think about everything you guys, er, gals said. Thanks!" Mordecai gave a quick hug to Eileen before heading out. The two women smiled at him as he left.

"Good luck! And tell us how it goes!" Eileen happily called. The mole girl turned to see Margaret's smile fade away from her beak the instant Mordecai was out of sight.

"He is _such_ a bad liar," Margaret said once she crossed her arms.

Benson had finally gotten the horrible shirt off of his body and made waffles for the house. He wasn't sure how to solve this "problem", but he put it in the back of his mind. There were other more important (and less stressful) things to worry about. Like figuring out what to do about the empty greenhouse he recently acquired, and cleaning out the guest room because there was no way he was going to sleep in the house (with Mordecai) that night or any other night. Though, at the moment, he was worried about getting Pops up and undoing any psychological scarring he might have done to the lollipop man's innocent mind.

Knocking on Pop's bedroom door, Benson softly called, "Pops? Are you up? I need to talk to you for a minute." There was no response, so Benson called again. "Pops, I'm not sure… I don't know how to… You know what? Why don't we do this. Just tell me what you heard, and I'll do my best-"

Pops' door creaked open suddenly. Benson stood taken aback, but then poked his head in to look inside the room. It was a mess, and that was Benson's first indication that something was very, truly wrong.

"Pops?" Benson said, even though he knew, could see with his own eyes that Pops was not there. The sheets were thrown about and the dressers looked as though someone had rummaged through them. Pops' sheet music was peppered around the floor and even his baby grand's top was flipped open. Benson felt a deep fear rise up inside when he stepped inside and observed all around the room.

"Everythin' okay up there?" Skips shouted from downstairs. Benson was too busy freaking out to answer. He felt a chilly breeze sneak in through a widely opened window.

And next to that window, was the note.

Skips eventually came up to Pops' room to see why Benson wasn't answering. Benson's back was facing him, and Skips could tell he had something in his hands. "What's the problem, Benson? And where's Pops? " Skips asked, looking around the mess of a room. Abruptly, Benson threw down the note and ran past Skips. Skips stood where he was, not really sure what had gotten into the gumball machine. "… Benson?"

"We need to go!" Benson screamed. And he sounded to desperate, and so goddamn _scared_… Skips followed him to the coat rack and saw that Benson was shoving his boots on.

"Why? What was in your hands before?" Skips demanded. Benson threw on his black scarf and ran upstairs again. Skips could hear his frantic footsteps, and then Benson ran down the staircase and stop in the middle.

"Where are my keys, Skips?" Benson asked, but stared to rush around. Skips couldn't keep his eyes on him long enough to answer. Benson sprinted down to the basement, then back up and into the kitchen, then back near the front door.

"Talk to me, Benson!"

"_Look_! I don't have time to explain things to you, alright? Now tell me where my _fucking_ keys are!"

As Mordecai headed towards the porch of the house, he saw a very pissed off Benson stomping out the front door. Mordecai couldn't help but smile at his anger, now that he knew it was all just a defense mechanism. Mordecai picked up the pace and came to Benson, planning on saying "Hey your boyfriend's back!", but Benson made a beeline to him and punched Mordecai in the face.

"This is all your fault!" Benson dove onto Mordecai. His face was bright red and Mordecai saw that his eyes were shiny with angry tears. "This is all of your **fault**!"

Skips had ran out of the house and attempted to pull Benson off of Mordecai, but Benson was hell-bent on beating the shit out of his employee.

"What the hell? Get off of me! Get him off of me!" Mordecai pushed Benson's chest with all his might and the gumball machine fell on the ground. Mordecai pinned Benson's arms down and stared daggers into him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"He took him!" Benson screamed, and he was so loud and livid that Mordecai saw the tears bunching up in his eyes and threatening to fall.

"Who took who?" Mordecai shouted back. He struggled against Benson's attempts to break free, and when Benson tried to kick him with his legs Mordecai straddled him. "What are you talking about?"

Benson shouted out in frustration and caught Mordecai's eyes. It was to make sure Mordecai understood the gravity of the situation. He lowered his volume and said to Mordecai in a gritted out voice, as if spitting in his face, "McGuire took Pops. Now get the _fuck off of me." _

_A/N: Yes, I finally updated. Sorry, that it's short and shitty, my parents just bitch and complain whenever I update. I'm not happy with this at all. But you guys wanted it, so here it is. It would be easy for all of us if you go to my DA account (ignore my shitty artwork) and watch for journal entries as to why I can't update as often as I would like. And extra goodies! Please review, mon amis! :D_


	18. Chapter 18

It seemed impossible, but after committing at least fifty driving violations (and making Mordecai clunk his head against the passenger's window because of his sharp turns) Benson parked harshly in the front of the surprisingly modest McGuire firm, ready to smash heads in.

"This is it." Benson growled, and before Skips could reason with him he was out of the station wagon.

Skips sighed, "You have to calm down, Benson."

Mordecai and Skips hopped out after him and picked up their pace to catch up with the steaming gumball machine.

They were just as angry. Well, Mordecai couldn't speak for Skips, but he knew everyone in the house cared about Pops and wondered why someone would want to harm such a sweet old lollipop man; he was so innocent and unassuming. That was reason enough to choke that Jerry bastard.

Plus, he ran over Mordecai and killed a hobo. That's a trilogy of dick moves.

"You might have to hold us both back." Mordecai said.

Benson stomped over to the glass double doors and tried to pull them open. When they refused to budge, Benson kicked them and yelled out in frustration.

"Benson you can't-" Skips began, but Benson spun around and deathly stared.

He snapped, "What?"

Mordecai inched past them, pushed the double doors open and held it for them to get inside. Benson rolled his eyes and huffed, but walked in anyway. The other two followed after him.

The inside of the McGuire firm had a high ceiling and very cleaning looking, very gray linoleum floors that reflected the bright lights that hung from above. It hurt Mordecai's eyes to even stare down at the floor.

Wait.

His glasses. Mordecai went up to touch his face... And no glasses. Benson's quick, angry walking didn't give him time to ponder this too much, but he thought it strange that it took him so long to realize he didn't have them on.

There were a few desks and even fewer people at them, and Mordecai noticed the employees were on their phones.

At the exact same time. While their mouths moved at the same speed. Speaking the same words.

Suddenly the whole " Public Park Calvary" thing didn't seem like such a good idea. But McGuire had Pops. So the mission continued.

The three would be "rescuers" stood in the middle of the firm. Nothing but the odd murmurs of the firm employees' phone conversations could be heard. What were they supposed to do next? Mordecai couldn't bash any of these people's heads in. They were in the middle of doing their jobs.

Skips had this really calm look on his face as he oh so subtly studied Benson and Mordecai quietly. Mordecai became self-conscious.

Does he know? Did Benson tell him? What exactly did he tell him?... Was it anything good?

When it seemed they'd be stuck in that spot forever, Benson shouted an "Aha!". He pointed to an office labeled "Jerry R. McGuire" and advanced. The door had a sign that said Jerry was in, which was all the welcome Benson needed.

Mordecai found himself worried about Benson's newfound "shoot first, ask questions later" attitude. Well not newfound. More like reawakened. The dude could do damage when needed, but he was still wearing those damn boots.

How much ass can you kick in those?

"Let's go!" Benson ordered. He was inches from the door when Skips stopped him.

"Benson, I really don't think this is a good idea."

Benson stared at him, disbelievingly. "He has Pops, Skips."

"I know." Skips closed his eyes, as if his head hurt.

"This isn't about some run over employee or Maellard's being missing. He has Pops."

"... Maellard's missing?" Skips asked Mordecai, who frowned.

"I take offense to the first one," said Mordecai.

Benson, suddenly not as gung-ho as before, reached out his hand. His metallic arm seemed to stretch out and out and out forever, as if the door was alive and retreating from his touch.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

The three men were addressed by a very tall, muscular (kinda familiar looking) woman with dark brown hair. She smiled at them dully. Benson smiled the same way back.

"No thank you miss."

The woman looked at all of them, her eyes lingering on Mordecai then her smile becoming a bit more genuine, and she walked off to a hallway adjacent to McGuire's right office wall.

Mordecai could hear the silent sigh of relief they all released simultaneously.

Without further ado, Benson took the door knob in his hand. Mordecai and Skips found themselves at Benson's side, ready for anything that might jump out at them.

Benson slowly, slowly, and turned the knob, thanking his lucky stars it wasn't locked, and the three men braced themselves once Benson opened the door.

Once inside, they were greeted by a very happy looking Pops who sat in a black swivel chair with caramel all over his face.

"Pops!" Benson shouted. He ran over to him and observed the giggling man, who was just thrilled to see his three friends.

Skips and Mordecai couldn't help but smile at him.

"Dearest friends!" Pops beamed, "Reunited at last!"

Dressed in his usual vest and top hat, Pops looked as if he'd been to Heaven and back. Well rested, smiling (more than normal) and covered in caramel. Mordecai was... Not expecting this. At all.

"Pops, did that bastard hurt you?" Benson asked, taking Pops' head in his hands.

"Harm me?" Pops giggled, "Mr. McGuire had been nothing but hospitable! He's given me caramel delights." Pops smiled triumphantly as he pointed to his face. Thinking of how uncouth he may be looking, Pops took a very fine cloth from his vest and wiped his face.

Benson saw no cuts or marks, or any sign Pops had been tied up or gagged, but still remained weary.

He asked, looking into Pops' eyes, "You're sure McGuire didn't hurt you?"

"What is the insistence that Mr. McGuire has hurt me? Is that anyway to speak of our host?"

Mordecai looked at Pops questioningly. "Host?"

Without warning, the door slammed closed.

The sudden action made Mordecai jump, and instinctively he ran to the door to get it open again. No such luck. "What the hell, dude?"

The lights went out and for one minute the three men found themselves being lifted up and moved around by an invisible force that threw them into the air. It was a breathless and hopeless feeling; as if tiny, phantom hands were grabbing him by the soul and pulling him through empty space just for the hell of it.

However, another hand appeared. It gripped Mordecai's wing and held on, it dug its fingers into his skin, it was so determined to cling on it was obvious to Mordecai that the hand was just as helpless as he was.

The faint hands or forces or whatever insisted on holding him pulled against the hand Mordecai felt more connected to, as if engaged in the scariest game of tug-of-war ever played, until finally the unknown forces surrendered and vanished.

Mordecai felt himself freefall.

The lights came on all at once, the men found themselves in four perfectly lined up chairs facing a desk with a very big swivel chair, and Benson (once reassuring himself that they both were no longer airborne) let go of his wing.

The chair slowly began to spin. More lights above them turned on. Pops clapped his hands as the other three watched on cautiously at the chair that began to spin faster and faster and faster until a cloud of purple smoke blinded them.

And when the purple cloud dissolved, it revealed Jerry McGuire sitting in the chair with his famous shit eating grin.

"Why hello there, gentlemen."

"Think about it Leenie," Margaret said, pacing around her apartment. "Mordecai's not the type to hide relationships. No matter how embarrassing."

Eileen lamented the fact that she may never finish her magazine and tried to honestly think about what her friend was saying. "So what is your theory? Mordecai's lying about everything?"

"No!" Margaret ran up to Eileen's face, smiling like a maniac. "He's telling the truth!"

"Then why did you call him a liar before?"

"Because he was lying!"

Eileen rubbed her temples. "You make my brain sad."

Margaret clasped her hands together and continued to hypothesize, "Mordecai was telling the truth about the whole sleeping with someone, and the fact that it was with someone he wasn't supposed to be sleeping with. But it wasn't Belle... Oh no, my innocent friend," Margaret pointed at Eileen. "Mordecai is a hopeless romantic. He plays by the rule book of love... and when rules are broken he goes ballistic..." Margaret could hear the little lightbulb ding in her head, and she was already patting herself on the back.

Eileen noticed her pleased expression.

"What? What are you thinking about, Mags?"

"... Oh my God. Why didn't I think of this before?... Oh my God!" Margaret sat herself next to Eileen as she giggled girlishly.

"What? What so funny?" Eileen asked, shaking Margaret's arm and laughing along too.

"Eileen," Margaret grabbed both of Eileen's hands. "Mordecai. Slept. With. One. Of. The. Park... Guys!"

"Oh my GOD!" Eileen hopped up and down.

"I KNOW!" Margaret hopped on her knees.

Eileen was laughing and grinning until she thought about that reasoning and put a finger to her chin in thought.

"What makes you say that?"

Margaret rolled her eyes, "Eileen, sweetie, all that virginal innocence is making you blind. Why else would a presumably straight man hide a sexual conquest? Even if it was with Belle?"

"Maybe because Mordecai's a gentleman?" Eileen suggested, remembering her soft spot for the blue jay. "Or maybe because she works for the government, and if he did say something, our fingers would be chopped off. Yakuza style."

Eileen frowned when she looked down at her hands, imagining one or two missing. Margaret incredulously observed Eileen doing this for a good three minutes.

"Anyway," said Margaret, grabbing Eileen's attention again, "I want to get to the bottom of this. In a respectful way, of course. Now how can we pry into Mordecai's personal life and discover his homosexual affair?"

"We could hire a guy to follow Mordecai, and find out his secrets."

Margaret looked a bit taken back. "Eileen... I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"No, it starts getting illegal when we break out the rope," Eileen explained with eyes hopeful and sincere. "The yakuza do it all the time!"

Benson turned the reddest Mordecai had ever seen, but remained was too pissed to speak. Mordecai was not as silent.

"You dick!" Mordecai spat. "What the hell is this?" Mordecai looked around the man's office and saw no torture devices, which was always a good sign.

Skips just did what he did best and stared silently. Who knew what he was thinking.

McGuire put two hands to his chest, pretending he had been shot.

"Ouch. Wasn't expecting the firing squad today." he readjusted his tie and cracked his neck before standing up. "Benson. Morton-"

"It's Mordecai," Benson snapped. Mordecai couldn't help but look at Benson, whose eyes burned into the lawyer.

Jerry ignored Benson and laid his eyes on Skips, not recognizing him. "And... Hello? I'm Jerry McGuire. Never met you before." McGuire held out his hand to Skips. Skips looked at his hand, then at McGuire himself. The lawyer seemed to be widening his eyes and trying to lock contact with Skips.

But when he did... Something happened. For an instant... As quick as a second... Jerry McGuire stopped smiling. McGuire eventually returned his hand to his side, but with a new smile. "I know you're all wondering why I invited you here today." Jerry continued.

"Bullshit!" Benson pointed an accusing finger at McGuire. "We're here today because you took Pops!"

"And you ran me over!" Mordecai added. "But yeah! The 'Pops Kidnapping' shit is not cool!"

"'Kidnapping'?" McGuire laughed, "What in the world are you fine gentlemen talking about?"

"Don't play games with me, McGuire." Benson growled. "That note? The fact that Pops is sitting in your office right now?"

"Oh no, Benson. There was no abduction." Pops said.

The other three furrowed their eyebrows. Pops became very guilty looking. "I had come home early so I could... See how the B.E.A.T reunion concert went for you two and when I arrived, Mr. McGuire and some of his friends were here. They said that father had called for me and I went with them."

Mordecai was confused, while Benson had (and they all thought it was impossible) gotten angrier with Pops' explanation.

"How dare you. How dare you use this man's father to manipulate him!" Benson's teeth had become as sharp as daggers. "You disgusting piece of garbage!"

"Beanteen!"

Every one of them snapped their heads to an unseen doorway to the left of the room they hadn't noticed until then. In the doorway stood Mr. Maellard. He appeared to be very irritated, but when his eyes laid upon Pops he grinned softly.

"Mr. Maellard sir!" Benson said, breathing shakily. "You're... Y-you're..."

"Sick and tired of your antics, Beanteen!" Maellard pushed his cane into Benson's stomach. "I haven't spoken to my son in ages! What's wrong with the house phones?"

"I... The phones..." Benson felt his throat close up.

"The phone lines were screwed up." Mordecai said. Benson gave him a vague look but nodded along nonetheless. "Squirrels and all that junk."

"Whatever the cause may be, I still put this on your shoulders. I'm still debating if I should give you the surprise at all!"

Skips said, finally, "What surprise, sir?"

"Mr. Maellard was feeling generous, and has invited you and any other park employee to a fundraising party," McGuire said.

Pops squealed, "It's going to be at a big fancy mansion and everything!"

Mordecai and Skips were unsure of how to react, while Benson just sat and stared at Maellard as if he were a ghost.

"It's a suit and tie affair, so dress the part..." Mr. Maellard mumbled. "You ragamuffins."

Mordecai scooted his chair closer to his boss and whispered, "Benson? What's going on with you?" Benson said nothing and continued to stare at Mr. Maellard.

McGuire stood next to Mr. Maellard with a huge smile on his face. He flipped his chocolate hair once or twice and put an arm around the old man. It was weird though... Maellard didn't even act like McGuire was touching him.

McGuire snapped his fingers and the his office door opened.

"The event is at the beginning of February, don't forget!" McGuire smiled and waved. Pops shook McGuire's hand and thanked him for the caramels while Skips, Benson and Mordecai stared on dumbly.

Maellard rolled his eyes and retreated into the room he had come out of. Mordecai and Skips, seeing no more reason to stay, got up from their chairs and sheepishly followed Pops.

Benson slowly turned his head to McGuire, who had returned to sitting in his own chair.

Of all the questions and accusations that were begging to be said, Benson softly asked the simplest, and yet most daunting: "Who are you?"

McGuire scoffed, with a sly smile, "Why Benson. I'm Jerry McGuire. You know that." he pointed his finger to his door. "You're free to leave with your friends."

Benson did as he was told and joined the rest as they walked out of the law firm.

But as they left, the people on their phones stared at them. Not with a fleeting curiosity, either.

More like they wanted to rip them to bits.

They no longer spoke, and everyone (except Pops) exchanged subtle, worried looks.

The tall muscular woman with dark brown hair opened the double doors, and wished them a good day, telling them to "Drive carefully."

The gang drove silently as the sun began to set.

Benson had never felt so conflicted before. When Mr. Maellard had stopped responding to his calls, he had just... He assumed the worst. Or at least he had been out of the country. But the old bastard was alive and well!

Why didn't he just come over and see Pops himself?

And anything, something else that made Benson dig his fingers in the steering wheel, if McGuire was so innocently just trying to get Pops to see Maellard, couldn't he had come over earlier sans the intimidating kidnapping note? And preferably in the daytime?

"Mordecai." Skips said from the backseat. Mordecai turned around to face him. "Where's your glasses?"

Benson glanced from the road to see that Mordecai didn't have them on.

"I'm not sure," Mordecai admitted. "I'm thinking I lost them last night when..." Mordecai trailed off when Benson gave him a look; a silent warning.

Skips looked between them and nodded. "Gotcha."

"Mordecai, Benson, you must tell me how the show went!" Pops said excitedly.

Benson and Mordecai spoke at the same time, in different tones of voice (Mordecai excited, Benson nonchalant) until they concluded simultaneously: "We had an okay time."

Pops wasn't hoping for that response, but his smile didn't falter.

"Just okay?"

Benson paused at a red light. "A bit dull, actually."

Mordecai's head snapped to face Benson so fast he swore he'd decapitated himself. Benson made no effort to react to Mordecai. He hoped that Benson would make eye contact with him at least once.

"Dull you say?" Pops looked as if he was planning something right then.

"Nothing memorable." Benson told Pops. And with that throw away answer that seemed innocent to everyone else but was a clear and obvious "Fuck You" to Mordecai from Benson... That... That made Mordecai see red.

"And you, Mordecai? Last night was just 'okay'?"

"Well Pops, let me give you a breakdown." Mordecai cleared his throat and leaned into the passenger's seat. Benson was glancing more towards Mordecai than the road. "I fully expected to be a bit out of step, being as the music was before my time. But I was... Honestly? I was so. Damn. Bored."

Benson's lips became an angry straight line. Mordecai smiled to himself.

"Surely you enjoyed some parts?" Pops asked, hopefully.

"Some parts were enjoyable. I admit to that. But overall I felt that the performance was lacking. Wouldn't you say so, Benson?"

"I guess B.E.A.T isn't for everyone," Benson said, voice tight.

Waiting at the light, a shiny black car drove up next to them. It had its windows rolled up, but they all still heard the annoying pop song excreting from the vehicle. Mordecai grimaced. The suckish song wasn't making his mood any lighter.

"I mean, you made the audience do all the work. And your stage presence! Horrible!" Mordecai's smile was long gone, and his voice became more of a snarl. "You were like a dead fish last night."

No one said a word. Pops looked confused, and tapped Mordecai on the shoulder.

"Are y-you... Do you really feel that way Mordecai?" Pops asked.

Mordecai sighed, "Absolutely. I hate fish. They just flop around with their mouths open." The light turned green, and Benson switched between the gas pedal and brake abruptly which made Mordecai propel forward and slam his head on the glove compartment. "OW! What was that for?"

Benson innocently shrugged. "Foot slipped. Oops."

They drove off, and Benson was comforted by the fact he could see the park entrance.

Mordecai rubbed his head and slumped down into the seat. If Benson wanted to play this game he'd play it. Mordecai wasn't above calling names, goddamn it.

"I do remember this one part." Mordecai said when everyone thought the conversation was over and done with.

Pops perked up. "Oh~! Do tell~!"

"Or don't tell. Don't tell at all," Benson said, eyes vicious.

"But it was one of your best moments, Benson. Very tongue in cheek."

Benson's shoulders sank. His eyes seemed to gloss over.

"So... Benson delivered a satirical speech?" Pops asked himself more than Mordecai.

Mordecai twisted in his seat so he could see Pops better. "Oh, he _delivered_ alright."

Suddenly, blinding lights from shone inside of the car. It was so painfully bright, all of them cried out in pain and put their hands up to their hands. This included Benson, which resulted in the car taking a sharp left and flinging all of them to the right side of the car, while a car behind them rammed into Benson's car from behind.

The collision caused the station wagon to spin out of control; it felt as if the men were in a giant blender with so many loud crashing noises of metal and colors twisting around and around and around until it was all just a blur of confusion.

And then the car stopped spinning.

They all stopped screaming at the moment when the car stopped teetering on its right side and sat on its four wheels normally. With bulging eyes and fingers digging into anything their hands happened to be on before the other car hit them, all four men turned their heads to see the same shiny black car from before.

Benson gasped, taking deep breaths, "What... the fuck?"

The shiny black car revved its wheels a few times and rolled down its windows so the horrendous pop song it was broadcasting could be heard even louder and with more clarity.

_"You... change you mind... like a girl... changes clothes..."_

Mordecai lied still in the passengers' seat. Benson was smashed against the driver's door, but when he saw Mordecai unconscious he went into survival mode. He peeled himself from the door to go over to Mordecai, but a sharp and intense pain shot through his forearm.

_"Yeah you... PMS... like a bitch... I should know..."_

"Skips!" Benson shouted while he held his arm, "Skips, Mordecai's knocked out and I need you to drive!"

Without any discussion, Skips helped Benson drag Mordecai and himself in the back and took his spot in the driver's seat.

Benson heard the black car rev its engine a few final times.

_"And you... over think... always speak... Critically..."_

Skips turned the key, but the car only sputtered in response. He turned again. Sputters. He turned again. The black car's music seemed to get more obnoxious and blaring. Mordecai stared wide eyed out the window.

The shiny black car was getting ready to strike.

_"I should know... That you're, no good, for me~"_

The black car shot towards the station wagon, but Skips was able to start up the car and hit the gas just in time to drive through the park entrance. The black car spun around and went after them.

_"You're hot, then you're cold! You're yes, then you're no! You're in, then you're out! You're up then you're down!..."_

Pops held his face, screaming, while they sped down the dirt at "Who the Hell Knows" miles per hour. The shiny black car was relentless in its pursuit; it seemed no matter how fast they drove, there it fucking was...

"Look! Oh Benson, look!" Pops cried, pointing a trembling finger out the window.

The vehicle was next to them, and the pop song was loud enough to make ears bleed, but even though the windows were down Benson couldn't see who was driving inside.

_"We... used to be... just like twins... so in sync..."_

Benson struggled to buckle Mordecai in, as the car was hopping and bouncing around and Pops was screaming and screaming in his ear but still managed to be somewhat drowned out by the shiny black car's music.

_"The same... energy... now's a dead... battery..."_

He finally got the seatbelt on Mordecai, and when there was a pause in the song's chorus Benson screeched to Skips, "Ram the bastards!"

Skips followed orders and slammed the left side of the station wagon against the black shiny car.

_"You're wrong, when it's right! It's black, and it's white! We fight, we break up! We kiss, we make-up!"_

The black car took significant damage but was not backing down; it rammed the station wagon back and a huge dent appeared, scaring Pops and sending him to the opposite side of the car with Benson and Mordecai.

Skips yelled taking advantage of his booming voice, "I've got an idea!"

_"You're hot, then you're cold! You're yes, then you're no! You're in, then you're out! You're up, then you're down!..."_

The station wagon slammed against the shiny black car with all its might. Metal scraping and twisting and crunching mixed with the pop songs incessant chorus, and Benson thought if the people in the shiny black car didn't kill him their goddamn taste in music would.

Then Skips started to climb out of the car through the driver's window, and Benson wasn't even considering Skips as his possible killer.

_"You don't really wanna stay, no! But you don't really wanna go-o!"_

Benson expected the station wagon to careen off the dirt road and into a tree, but surprisingly the vehicle remained on course. It turned out Skips hit the shiny black car so hard the station wagon had somehow gotten stuck to it.

What contrived fortune they had.

Pops was holding on to the unconscious Mordecai as they all watched Skips stand boldly on the station wagon's hood. Benson anxiously watched between the white yeti and the black car.

An arm extended from the black car's passenger's window and threw something at Skips.

_"Someone! Call the doctor! Got a case of a love bi-polar! Stuck on a! Roller coaster; can't get off this ride~!"_

Skips caught the object that was thrown at him before it hit his face, then hopped onto the roof of the shiny black car. He punched through it, but before he could do any real ass-kicking, the driver started to lose control.

_"You... change your mind... like a girl... changes clothes..."_

The shiny black car was now a speeding metal block of death, as the people driving it apparently were having aneurysms. The car was going every which way and clanking and clunking until into the distance a huge oak tree appeared in the line of fire.

"Skips!" Benson and Pops yelled, going to the window.

Skips was so distracted by their screams he didn't notice an arm shoot through the hole he put through the shiny black car's roof.

_"You're wrong when it's right! It's black, and it's white! We fight, we break up! We kiss, we make-up!"_

Skips' eyed widened, and seeing no reason to die a hero, he prepared to jump back onto the hood of the station wagon. The now two arms coming from the black car's roof held onto one of his legs for dear life, preventing him from jumping.

The oak tree was approaching, closer and closer and closer until Skips had to just karate chop the arms and jump away.

_"You don't really wanna stay, no! But you don't really wanna go-o!"_

Skips landed on the hood of the station wagon just before the oak hit both cars. The impact was strong enough to split them apart and stop them in their tracks.

Benson opened his eyes. Looking around and feeling his body, he was able to confirm that, yes, he was still alive. Pulling his head from Pops' chest, he pushed him away by the shoulders.

Pops whimpered, "Are we deceased?"

"No," Benson said quickly, before pushing Pops to the other side of the seat. He unbuckled Mordecai and let him fall into his lap. Benson put a finger to Mordecai's nose.

Still breathing. Thank God.

Skips held his in pain head as he came up from the snow. He was glad he had survived the crash and all, but this was a bit much for a Friday.

In his other hand, was the object the people in the other car had thrown at him. He opened his hand up and saw in it... A bag of jewelry.

Skips stared at it for awhile. Either those folks mixed up the bag with a stick of dynamite or they really wanted to get rid of the jewelry. He shoved the bag in his back pocket and stepped back to observe Benson's station wagon.

Steam came from the car and twirled up into the atmosphere. The damage done... Indescribable. Skips went up the driver's door and went to open it, but the door immediately fell once Skips touched the handle.

Shrugging, Skips poked his head through where the door used to be.

"Everyone alright?" Skips asked.

Benson pulled Mordecai to his side, intending to carry him. "I'm fine. Pops is fine. We need to get Mordecai back to the house."

Skips looked over at the black shiny car, and noticed one of the front doors open.

He looked over, taking careful and calculated steps towards the car, and saw nothing.

That is, until a man screamed bloody murder and fell out of the car with a knife in his chest. Skips jumped back in shock, and once the man hit the grass he turned into a pile of ash.

A woman stepped from the front of the car, bent down and retrieved the knife. She stood back up and smiled at Skips.

"Skips..." she said, nodding affectionately. "Good to see you. Alive."

"Hey there West Coasters!" the black car's radio buzzed. "If you loved that song, here's another from the same artist! This pop master piece is called, 'California Gurls'!"

Before the first word was even sang, the mystery woman punched the radio, busting it to pieces.

Skips tilted his head.

The woman laughed, cracking her knuckles. "Sorry, uh... Not a fan."

"I know you, ma'am?" Skips asked. He was pretty sure he never met this woman before, but for some reason he didn't feel threatened... Like he just knew she wasn't the enemy, per se.

The woman laughed again, and revealed a watch on her wrist. She pressed a button on the side of the watch, and a green ring of light appeared above her head.

The green ring slowly travelled down her body, and when it disappeared Skips was no longer looking at a woman, but who Mordecai and Rigby called the Greatest Philippino Actor Alive.

Someone gently splashed some water in Mordecai's face for the fourth time, and the blue jay shot up.

"Benson!" Mordecai screamed. He went wide-eyed when he realized where he was.

Orange-red light danced in through Pops' room window. Everything was put in its place; the baby grand, the dresser and pictures of Pops himself were perfect.

Mordecai was in Pops bed, feeling pretty comfortable.

"Good evening, sunshine," Benson said, setting a glass of water on the night stand. He sat on the bed, and scanned Mordecai's face. "Your head okay?"

Mordecai replied, looking around, "I guess... I... what happened?"

"Some... _Men In Black_ wannabes tried to kill us. Then Lou Diamond Phillips showed up and stabbed one of them." Benson said whilst rubbing his wrist.

Mordecai closed his eyes, not sure of what he had just heard.

"I think I _did_ hurt my head," he said, holding his forehead.

Right on cue, Lou Diamond appeared on the doorway. He was wearing a dress shirt, sunglasses hanging from the neck, and black pants."I hear my biggest fan is up and at 'em?"

Mordecai and Benson faced the actor; Mordecai being the more happy of the two.

"_Lou Diamond Phillips_," said Mordecai, as if he expected to wake up from this dream.

"Thank you again for your help, Mr. Phillips," Benson said with a small smile.

"Don't mention it. If anything, I need to be thanking you guys. You were the perfection distraction for McGuire when I was undercover. And for his cronies. Sorry I couldn't stop them from wrecking your car, though," Phillips said as he strolled over to Pops' bed.

Mordecai blinked surprised. "The muscular woman at McGuire's... that was-"

Phillips laughed, "First and last time I go that deep undercover." He turned to Benson with a slight grimace, "I never realized how creepy it was to be hit on by dudes."

"You get used to it," Benson said, smiling knowingly.

Mordecai was still reeling from the reveal. If Lou Diamond Phillips could disguise himself as a woman... he could _literally_ be anyone at anytime.

"Well know we've got that much closer to nailin' this McGuire bastard. The boys and I will be around if anymore 'incidents' happen."

Phillips walked from the bed and towards the door, but turned away when Mordecai called out to him.

"LDP!"

"Hmm?" Phillips shoved his hands in his pockets.

Mordecai was going to ask him how he'd know when they'd be in trouble, but what tumbled out of his mouth was, "Why are you so awesome?"

Phillips bellowed with laughter, shaking his head because he was so amused.

"Like I said, me and the boys will be around... Take care. And I'll leave the files here with you."

Phillips nodded to Benson and shot a grin to Mordecai, and with a press of a button on his watch, the actor dissolved when a glowing green ring phased him out.

Mordecai came out of his fanboy daze when Benson gave him a pointed look.

"What?" asked Mordecai.

Benson rubbed his wrist. "Nothing."

How come Benson's looking at me like that? I'm the one who should be giving questionable looks.

"So," Mordecai began, looking off to his right, "are you going to bring it up or should I?"

"... What the hell are you talking about?"

The tone was enough to piss Mordecai off, but the way he kept looking at him... like he was crazy person making this up just to stir shit up.

"Don't do that," Mordecai snapped. "don't sit here and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Benson said boredly. He kept rubbing his wrist.

"**Last night**, Benson. Last night happened-" Mordecai stopped himself from ranting when he finally noticed Benson's wrist rubbing. "... What's wrong with your wrist?"

Benson looked down at his wrist, then looked at Mordecai.

"It's just sore."

Mordecai's hand shot forwards to hold Benson's wrist, and when he simply placed a finger on it the older man jumped up and away.

"Don't touch me!"

"You're hurt," Mordecai said, all of the anger draining from him.

Benson growled, "It's fine! I'm fine, God!" He paced around Pops bedroom then pointed an accusing finger towards Mordecai. "All of this is your fault!"

Mordecai was becoming frustrated, but thought it unwise to raise his voice.

"How was our near assassination _my_ fault?"

"You know what I mean," Benson leaned on the bed with the one hand that wasn't angrily pointing at him. "You keep... getting into things and... invading my personal space."

Mordecai shook his head to clear it, "This... This is about last night, then?"

Benson bit on his top lip.

"You keep distracting me. And when I get distracted, things like my job and Pops get neglected... Then shit like this happens."

"Let me get this straight," Mordecai swung his legs over the edge of Pops' bed and stood up. "All of this happened because we had sex last night?"

"Shush!" Benson stood up straight and looked towards the doorway. He glared at Mordecai when he made sure no one was coming. "They might hear you downstairs!"

Mordecai glared right back, "I don't care."

"Well I care! And another thing-"

"Shut up, Benson."

Benson's mouth became agape. The phrase was never uttered to him by Mordecai before. Rigby told him to shut up plenty of times, and if he especially pissed off Muscle Man he got a "fuck you".

But Mordecai would never tell him to shut up. Not until now, that is.

"W-what?"

"You heard me._ Shut up_. Shut up and listen to me for one friggin' minute." Benson was straight as a pole as Mordecai got up from the bed. "I get not wanting to talk about what happened. And I get wanting to forget and move on is..." Mordecai couldn't say "lessening it", as that would be a dead give away, so he searched his mind for a less inflammatory term, "insulting me."

"Wha-"

Before Benson could continue, Mordecai was advancing on him with a very ticked off look in his eyes.

"The little cutting comments and using Pops and your job as an excuse not to talk about it. We have to talk about this. Whether we want to or not."

"No-"

Mordecai had gotten so close to him, and Benson found himself backing away. There was something about Mordecai's intensity that made him want to get away.

"That wasn't a suggestion. It may be today or tomorrow but we are going to sit down like fucking adults and figure out what all of this means." Mordecai looked down at Benson's wrist. He sighed. "Does your wrist still hurt?"

Benson sputtered, "I... I... a little."

"Skips," Mordecai called, never once breaking eye contact, "Benson's hurt."

"What?... I'll be up there in a sec," Skips called in response.

Mordecai just stood in front of Benson, close and intimidating, daring him to argue.

He was never so assertive. Benson wasn't sure how that made him feel.

"Why are you so upset?" asked Benson, actually trying to keep his voice from trembling.

Mordecai's shoulder's sunk. His eyes became cold. "If you have to ask, you don't deserve to have it explained to you."

Benson watched Mordecai storm off, then looked down at his wrist.

He was sure it wasn't anything serious.

Skips finally finished tying the bandage on Benson's wrist. They were in the kitchen, sitting down, and Skips couldn't help but notice Benson was incredibly quiet.

Mordecai and Pops were in the next room, looking over the files Phillips said he'd leave over.

"I'm not sure if having these files is such a good idea," Skips told Benson, "but it would be a good idea to at least look them over."

"Yes," said Benson simply.

He pulled his arm back to himself and rubbed it through the bandage. Skips studied Benson.

"It's not broken, but it's hurt bad enough for that bandage to stay on for a few days. You're lucky you've got metal limbs."

"Yes," Benson said again. He rubbed at his wrist. It really was sore.

"Why didn't you say something about your wrist before?"

Benson slowly stood up, and shrugged.

"I... didn't think it was that bad." Benson looked down at the floor. "I'm going to turn in early."

Benson grabbed his yellow coat and held it with both hands as he awkwardly stood there. It didn't feel right to just walk off.

Skips nodded and stood up himself, walking towards the back door.

"Good night then... Benson?"

The gumball machine closed his eyes and prepared for the speech about not bottling in feelings and whatever was happening between Mordecai and him needed to addressed. Instead Skips just looked him up and down, face a blank slate, and told Benson, "It's not good to ignore the painful things."

Benson nodded understandingly. "I'll remember that when I hurt the other wrist."

Skips skipped off, and Benson lingered in the kitchen before walking into the living room.

The floor was covered with documents and pictures, and Mordecai sat Indian style, looking over the sea of files. He silently studied them with a magnifying glass; Benson's never seen him so focused.

And maybe... maybe Benson wasn't being fair. He just assumed Mordecai would be creeped out, and then he'd feel creeped out, and then it would just be all downhill from there.

He certainly couldn't listen to "Age of Aquarius" the same again.

So what to do? This was not something that he wanted to talk about at length. But it made him feel a little shitty that Mordecai of all people was telling him to act like an adult.

Benson silently entered the area and walked over to Mordecai.

Mordecai gently placed his magnifying glass down. He straightened up and stared up at Benson.

"How's the wrist?"

Benson went to rub it again, but stopped himself, remembering Skips' warning that it would only make it worse.

"It's okay. Just a little banged up," Benson answered. He gestured next to Mordecai, asking for permission to sit. Mordecai made room for him. "Pops is asleep?"

Mordecai said, voice neutral, "Insisted on getting up early tomorrow. Wanted to be wide awake when we tell him about the B.E.A.T concert."

"He doesn't give up," Benson chuckled lightly, looking up at the ceiling.

A silence fell upon them, and Benson felt the pictures and papers accusing him of stalling. Which he was guilty of, but it was pretty damn high and mighty for some contracts and snapshots to tell him so.

"Does it make it worse that it was with me?" Mordecai asked.

Benson blinked confusedly, "Huh?"

"If last night had happened with... Al or something, would you be acting the way you're acting?"

Benson saw the way Mordecai had suddenly stiffened up, and heard his defensive tone, and became alarmed at his realization.

"Are you taking all of this _personally_?" Mordecai said nothing. "Mordecai. We were drunk, and I was... angry. If I had done this with anyone else I'd be just as weirded out... Well, no. You're my employee, so it makes things one hundred times worse, but I'm acting the way I am because... I don't know."

Mordecai took a picture in his hands and played with the corners.

_Wow. He_** was** _taking this personally._

"Sleeping with my employees... isn't me. Or at least it shouldn't be me. And I'd rather not revert back to my old ways. Bottom line, it's not you." Mordecai looked up at him, and Benson back-pedaled. "Okay, fine, I'd rather_ not_ have slept with you. But it's because you work for me. And you're straight."

Benson remembered telling Skips that sleeping with Mordecai was disgusting... Maybe that was a little strong. But it was still pretty odd that Mordecai was being so sensitive about this.

Wasn't he disgusted?

Then the lingering suspicions about Mordecai nagged at him. Benson wasn't sure if entertaining those thoughts was smart.

"Yeah..." Mordecai said, still playing with the picture. Benson furrowed his eyebrows at Mordecai's lacklustre response. Still, he needed to at least try to look over some photos.

He silently asked for the picture in Mordecai's hands. Mordecai handed it over. It was an old picture; Benson could tell from the quality and the hairstyles of the men in the picture. It was late... no... mid fifties. Yeah. Benson checked the back and, as he guessed, the photo was dated 1956.

"Why... Why did you get so mad at me?" asked Benson.

"You're right," Mordecai said with a stiff smile. "we should just forget it."

Benson's face twisted in confusion.

First Mordecai was angry at him for speaking negatively of last night, then he's totally up for pretending it never happened... Benson gave up.

Mordecai was doing what he did best; screwing with him.

"Mhmm," said Benson, all of his attention on Mordecai.

The blue jay picked up a file that had nothing put numbers on it and began to scan it over. He didn't say much during their time looking over the files.

Benson looked over the same picture the whole night, or at least pretended to. He was too busy trying to figure out why Mordecai seemed so crestfallen.  
>(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((<p> 


	19. Chapter 19

At first there was beautiful humming. Humming so soft and saccharine, Mordecai almost thought it... But it couldn't have been...

_"Let the sunshine in... face it with a grin..."_

Singing eventually formed from the humming, but had a very mystical echoing effect.

Mordecai's eyes snapped open. He was woken up by the strangely familiar yet distorted singing that fluttered around the room.

He sat on the living room floor, surrounded by photos of Jerry McGuire and unrecognizable men. The entire room was dipped in a haunting blue tint. Mordecai looked around him, and on the couch slept Benson, wrapped into himself.

Mordecai wondered how Benson could sleep with that woman singing about.

_"So let the sunshine in... face it with a grin... Open up your heart... and let the sunshine in..."_

He took a deep breath and exhaled. Mordecai saw his own breath. It wasn't even cold in the room.

Mordecai got up from thee floor and went over to the couch. He didn't dare touch Benson, but he got close enough to whisper into his boss's ear, "Benson... Benson, wake up."

Benson turned towards Mordecai's voice but remained asleep.

The gumball machine man said, obviously to someone in his dream, "I... I don't like caviar."

"... Dude, what?"

"I want... that's not what I want..." Benson pleaded with a pathetic little voice.

For a fleeting moment, Mordecai took notice of a wisp of breath that escaped from Benson's mouth.

Mordecai knew he wasn't exactly the best judge of what was normal and abnormal, but seeing people's breaths in a moderately warm room wasn't status quo. Hoping to have someone else slowly freak out with him, Mordecai touched Benson's arm and whispered again, "Benson. Something weird is going on..."

Maybe, Mordecai reasoned, a little nudge on the arm would wake the gumball machine up quicker. When Benson continued to lay still, Mordecai gave up and let his eyes skim over the photos Phillips had left.

It appeared to be the same men over and over again, in the same clothes, in the same positions. There had to be at least three hundred pictures scattered in front of Mordecai. The need for Benson to wake up increased, as maybe he would be able to do some CSI type analysis of the photographs and give them... Their next clue? Jesus. When did this whole thing turn into a Nancy Drew novel?

When Mordecai thought about it, his life had been very soap opera-ish lately. Infiltrating a law firm to spy on a shady lawyer, digging up his employer's past through his closeted ex-boyfriend/band mate. Seriously. Mordecai hated how confused he was, but at least he couldn't claim the situation as a whole was boring.

Just when Mordecai gave up, Benson laughed quietly. Almost like he didn't want anyone in his dream to know he found something amusing.

Mordecai, not thinking clearly, asked Benson curiously, "What's so funny?"

"Your face," the older man replied. Benson smiled contently. Mordecai frowned.

"Uh..."

Unexpectedly, a gust of warm wind blew through the room, blowing the files every which way and flipping the coffee table over. The television shifted all around.

Benson jumped awake, and when he noticed how close Mordecai was to him (which was startling considering he was sleeping) he eyed the blue jay as if he did something to him. Mordecai was too busy panicking about the random gust of wind to explain himself.

"What the... what the hell?" shouted Benson, still waking up.

The gust was strong enough to push Mordecai around, so he threw himself on the couch next to Benson.

"What did you_ do_, Mordecai?" Benson yelled, sounding fully awake.

Mordecai yelled back, "I didn't do anything!"

As wind blew into their faces, making it difficult to keep their eyes open, both men were at least able to see a ball of baby blue light that descended from up above.

Then the couch began to move.

It snapped right, making Benson bump into Mordecai. Benson grimaced as he tried to sit back upright, but then the couch snapped left. Mordecai fell on top of Benson, causing him to push at Mordecai's shoulders.

"Why are you always on top of me in these situations?" yelled Benson.

Mordecai yelled back, "Now isn't the time for gay jokes!"

The couch, almost like an amusement ride, slowly started to move in a circular motion around the blue orb in the middle of the living room.

_"Mordecai,"_ the woman sang sweetly,_ "you know the words."_

"Who are you?" Mordecai shouted to the ceiling.

Around and around the couch spun, and the two men held on for dear life as it increased in momentum.

To avoid dizziness, they both focused on the ball of light. It was still, and burned brightly, and it gave off coldness that only spread out so far.

_"Sing with me, sweetheart?"_ the woman asked.

Mordecai gripped onto the couch arm tighter.

Benson felt his eyes trying to focus on too many things at once... the constant light in his eyes... the spinning... his stomach bunched up and Benson knew the vomiting would come at any time...

The floating blue light began to take shape; a rectangle that stretched out at first, then became more rounded out and smooth, then began to shake and look more and more like... a person.

A horrible coughing filled the air, and the woman's voice no longer hummed or sang.

"Ack! Ack! Ack!"

The human shaped light put a fist to its mouth, covering its cough. Soon the blue lighted person didn't shine as brightly and it floated towards Benson and Mordecai, although it kept its distance. Still, they could feel the coldness it gave off.

The couch gradually came to a complete stop. But Mordecai and Benson could feel the piece of furniture vibrate, as if it were motorized.

After a few minutes of the coughing and shaking their heads clear, all that was in front of them was... To be honest, they didn't know what they were looking at. The person, who sounded like a guy or at least coughed like one, was transparent.

He wore a disheveled and stained suit. His hair was cut short.

But what really stuck out was the blood running down the front of his shirt.

Mordecai and Benson sat speechless. The transparent dude took a couple gargled breaths, put his head back, then finally was able to calm himself.

"Ah... Ah..._ My throat_," he croaked.

Mordecai grimaced at the sight of the man's throat; a bloody mess that was reminiscent of raw hamburger meat.

Surrounded by blue and confronted by a mutilated, see through blue mystery man, Benson grew panicked.

"Who are you?" Benson asked, gnashing his teeth. "What are you?"

The floating blue man tilted his head at Benson, then Mordecai, then he tightened his tie around his... whatever was left of his neck.

He sighed, with a broken smile, "I'm sorry. So sorry. I should've come sooner," he reached out a hand towards Benson, "I am Yorison Baryshnikov."

Benson dug back into his mind to remind himself where he had heard that name. The image of a smug looking client of Jerry McGuire, a "kitten kicker", apparently, came to the front of his mind. Benson recoiled from the man.

He spat, hoping that Baryshnikov could feel the white hot anger and vile feeling he was putting forth, "You disgusting piece of-"

"I know," Baryshnikov nodded. "I know. But please. Very little time. For me and you. And you too, Bird Man."

Mordecai stared between Benson and Baryshnikov dumbly.

"... Why won't you two stay still?"

*****jjjjj*****

Purple mitten clad hands clung to Eileen's single strap bag. The mole girl's cerulean coat was wrapped snugly around her body. Eileen could get horribly cold during these times; her little body had poor circulation.

When Margaret made it clear she was going to be preoccupied with the whole 'Mordecai and Not-Belle" thing, Eileen said goodbye to her friend and headed back to her own apartment.

She wasn't so sure if Mordecai... was like that. Not that there was anything wrong with being like that, of course. Eileen considered herself very liberal, and if what Margaret was saying about Mordecai (and ultimately one of the park employees) was true, she'd be nothing but supportive.

But it all seemed like high school gossip. Margaret had the tendency to pull rumors out of thin air. How could she possibly know any of what she was suggesting? The evidence was purely circumstantial, if not downright non-existent, and frankly pondering the issue any further would be insulting to Mordecai. No matter if he was straight... or lived an alternative lifestyle. Eileen hated how she sounded like her parents. "Alternative lifestyle"? She made Mordecai sound like a music genre.

"Hello! Hello Eileen!"

Eileen was brought out of her rambling thoughts when a red sports car drove up next to her, revealing Don with a bright smile.

Eileen smiled back, "Hey, Donald."

"Please," he somewhat chuckled, "please call me Don. Just Don."

The name "Don" always reminded Eileen of the female name "Dawn", so Eileen had decided to call her new friend Donald instead. She guessed it might've been too formal. Don wasn't really a formal guy.

"Um, are you just coming from work?" Eileen asked. She hoped he didn't go over someone's house dressed like that; Don wore a thin lime green sweater that screamed he got fashion pointers from his brother. Either that or he got dressed in the dark.

Don noticed Eileen's worried expression directed at his sweater, and chuckled, "Oh gosh! I look _horrible_, don't I? I wouldn't dream of letting one of my clients seeing me like this!"

"Oh!" Eileen found she was laughing as well, "I... I don't think it's that bad."

"It is, you don't have to sugar coat it," Don breathed in deep and looked off in no particular direction. "I'm completely helpless when it comes to clothes."

"Don't feel bad about that," Eileen walked towards the passenger's side door, "most guys would look like the walking dead if it weren't for their girlfriends and wives."

"A girlfriend," Don said, his voice losing some of its mirth.

Eileen realized she had probably hit Don's soft spot; a particular topic that was very sensitive to him, so she decided to end the conversation before she did anymore damage.

"Goodbye then," Eileen walked off, but Don drove along beside her.

"What? Why? Are you busy?"

Eileen said, but didn't stop walking, "I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. I do that to everyone. I say something, and then the other person is uncomfortable, but I'm so awkward and silly and so me I never notice until they're trying to get away from me, and then I'm the only person without a chemistry partner in Mrs. Perkins class because I'm the weird girl who can't stop talking about the mating patterns of Amazon slugs."

Without realizing it, Eileen had stopped moving. She was at a restaurant, her voice slightly raised more than necessary, with people staring at her as if she had lost some of her marbles.

_Great. Now he thinks I'm even **weirder**._

She waited for Don to laugh at her; to call her a weirdo and drive off thankful he dodged that bullet, but he instead looked at her with unblinking eyes and a blank expression.

Don sighed, fixing the sleeves of his lime green sweater.

"Eileen," Don began, "That has to be, by far, the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

The mole girl could feel a bit of herself numb up. It was a natural defense mechanism she had developed during her sophomore year of high school.

She said, averting her gaze from the man, "I know, I'm sorry, I just have to-"

"Who _wouldn't_ want to know how Amazon slugs mate?" Don exclaimed, genuinely wanting an answer. "I mean seriously. Y'know there's only five hundred of them left?"

Eileen tilted her head up with her eyes wide and gigantic.

"What?"

"It seems you were probably the smartest person in your chemistry class. You're definitely smarter than me," Don laughed and added, "which isn't that hard to accomplish."

Eileen shook her head, "What?"

And in that moment, Eileen could see the warmest of grins spread across Don's face.

"Eileen... I really hope this doesn't freak you out, but... and feel free to shoot me down. No pressure. But, I'd really like to..." Don studied Eileen's shocked face and confused it with disgust. He lost a little of his confidence. "I'd like to... say it was nice talking to you. I like talking to you."

"Oh," Eileen nodded, disappointed. "Well, I like talking to you too."

She smiled at Don, but it probably looked as fake as it felt. Don drummed his fingers on the steering of his car. It was one of those times where you're not sure if the conversation ended or not. They both said nothing, nor did they plan on continuing the dialogue, but they were pretty sure the other had something else to say and waited patiently for them to speak again.

Of course, not another word was spoken. Even when it desperately needed to be said.

"Bye Don," Eileen said. She'd have to go the opposite way Don was driving. She didn't want to run into him after this disaster of a social interaction. She didn't want to see him for as long as possible. "Forever" was preferable.

Don tugged at his right sleeve, "Goodbye, Eileen." Eileen looked down at her feet as she walked off, but looked up again when Don called out her name. "Eileen? I_ really_ do enjoy talking to you."

That time, Eileen's smile wasn't forced or faked at all.

Don drove off, looking quite pleased with himself, and Eileen let her head fall back so she was looking up at the sky.

"I don't know what you're doing," she said, speaking to someone she hoped was looking down at her, "but please start doing a better job."

"Eileen," said a voice. When she turned around, Eileen was face to... knee... with the last person she expected. "Do you have a minute?"

*****jjjjj*****

"What the hell are you doing here?" Benson pushed his body into the sofa, trying to distance himself from Baryshnikov.

Baryshnikov had another coughing fit, which brought him down to the floor, then through the floor, so that the only part of him Benson and Mordecai saw was his head.

"Have you not seen the Scooby Doo?" Baryshnikov said through his coughing, a smile tugging at his see-through lips.

Benson made a frustrated face. Mordecai was still trying to see straight. Not seeing his point, Benson demanded again, "What's wrong with you?"

"Goodness! I'm dead, you idiot! Dead. Get it? Because the Scooby Doo would hunt dead people, yes?"

"Yeah," Mordecai interrupted, blinking a few times, "but they always turned out to be assholes in costumes."

"This no costume, I assure you. And I say, you're on the wrong track. We want to be helping you now."

As Mordecai and Benson wondered who "we" exactly was, Baryshnikov floated from out of the floor whilst grabbing onto a photograph. He looked at it for himself, then exclaimed when he found what he was looking for. "Ah! Ah! Watch now," he presented the picture to Benson, "You know cameras, yes?"

Benson nodded, "Sure, but-"

"Ah! Ah! Look," Baryshnikov grabbed another picture and held it up against the other. "What is different, Gumball Machine?"

Benson took the pictures from Baryshnikov and stared at them. One of them was in black and white, a six inches by six inches frame. Probably a Dacora 120, which would explain the overall lackluster turn out. This photograph, Benson concluded, was definitely shot in the early 50's. He turned it over and got a little pride in seeing he was right, someone had written "H.L, 1954" on the back.

But the other camera was in color; it was more crisp, like something he himself would shoot. He couldn't tell the year, but it would have to be somewhere between 8 or 10 years ago to the day. Benson turned it over, but unfortunately there was no year indicating whether or not he was right.

"One's old and the other one's probably new," Benson said, putting the photographs down, "I've already figured that much out."

"No," Mordecai took the pictures and looked between them. His head moved back and forth, afraid that what he had found would disappear from either photograph and his eyes bugged out of his head. "no, no, Benson, that's not what Bar... Bar... Russian Dude is talking about. Look at the guys in the pictures."

Benson leaned over to see the pictures again, but this time focusing on the men. In the newer photograph, Benson wasn't shocked to see McGuire with a shit eating grin, standing next to a mousy looking man in a lab coat. He was taken aback a little when he saw Maellard with a fatherly hand on McGuire's shoulder, thought he quickly recovered... But his eyes froze when they landed on the man next to Maellard, with a wide grin and shining eyes, who fit in with the other men all to well.

The man was Thomas Townsend.

"Lorelai..." Benson retracted his hand from the newer picture. "_Sweet Christ_."

"Keep the looking you two. Both of you, keep the looking," Baryshnikov urged.

In the older picture, the mousy looking man (who both Benson and Mordecai assumed was McGuire's personal doctor of something) stood front and center.

His face... Benson thought maybe he was seeing it wrong, or that maybe the film had stuck and mutilated the picture... but then he stared at the man next to him, a man Mordecai had correctly pointed out as Daniel Silo... his face too. And the other men, amongst them was McGuire and Baryshnikov and... Lorelai's father. Their faces... all of their faces...

"They haven't aged," Benson said, shaking his head in disbelief, "in a span of 50 plus years. They haven't aged a bit."

Baryshnikov nodded his head solemnly.

"This..." Mordecai said, dropping the photographs so that they fell to the carpet, "is some **seriously** deep shit."

"McGuire takes care of clients very well. Very well. He gave us power. He gave us time. Time to do, whatever we pleased. He is no angel, yes, but he did not hurt Townsend girl." Baryshnikov went into another coughing fit. He clutched at his neck to pull any clothing scraps away. He wanted Mordecai and Benson to see his injury.

Long, deep gashes decorated his neck and upper torso. If Benson stared long enough, he could notice the muscle tissue that connected Baryshnikov lower jaw to his upper jaw visibly move. Glowing blue blood gushed out with each word, with each syllable, and ended up dribbling down Baryshnikov throat. Which didn't make much of a difference because his trachea already looked like raw hamburger meat.

Though it hung on by a very loose piece of flesh, Baryshnikov bent his head back so his hosts could get a better view. He told them, through a barrage of blood gargles, "This, what you see now, is the doing of a devil."

A great wind blew the photographs around them in an angry cyclone, around and around they spun only to fly against the wall nearest Benson and Mordecai and reveal a collage. Every single picture, from the smallest to the biggest, had the same face repeated over and over again.

The mousy guy wearing the lab coat smiled down at the two of them.

"That is your devil," Baryshnikov pointed to the pictures. "The scientist. Find him, stop the killing."

Mordecai looked at Benson, as if the older man would know what to do next. The information given to them, though helpful, was too much too soon. Who was that man? How would they find him? Why is he killing these people? Or maybe a more important question to ask was can they trust this floating blue man?

"Find him. Find him and stop killing," Baryshnikov closed his eyes, and the spinning wind came into the room again. The sofa remained in place, but Baryshnikov began to lose his form. He was leaving them.

Benson shouted after the fading man, "Where are you going?

"If you need us, we'll come to you, Gumball Machine! Right through the kitchen window!"

Baryshnikov no longer looked like a person, but had reverted back into a ball of blue, cool light. The blue tint of the living room drained from sight as Baryshnikov disappeared.

"How the hell are we supposed to find this guy?" Mordecai yelled, daring to stand up from the sofa.

Baryshnikov spun faster and faster until he was nonexistent, and the room was no longer the way it was. Mordecai breathed out and he couldn't see his breath. It felt warmer too. No one would be able to tell if Baryshnikov had been there at all.

_"Find the man,"_ a voice said. Mordecai's ears pricked up._ "But be cautious. Be clever. Think on your toes. And remember, always remember..."_

The voice did not finish its sentence. The room was no longer blue.

Then, like how it always was, it was just Mordecai, Benson, and more Hardy Boys investigating.

*****jjjjj*****

Eileen always softly clapped her hands when she was feeling anxious. She took off her purple mittens and clapped her clammy palms together once or twice.

"I hope you're enjoying the snow," Lou Diamond Phillips said. The actor/paranormal investigator asked Eileen if she minded him smoking. Eileen didn't, and he lit a cigarette up.

Eileen shrugged. "It's nice, I guess."

The green bench they sat on poked into Eileen's back. The park seemed so peaceful during its off months. Maybe, Eileen considered, it was so tranquil because of the lack of crazy monsters and such. Or maybe it was because the snow surrounding Phillips and herself made Eileen feel like a tiny dot in a blanket of powdered sugar. Set up against the silver sky, the blue park house appeared to be much grander; it was like Eileen was staring at a royal mansion.

"This city," Phillips let a smile tug at his lips, "it's pretty gorgeous, y'know? So goddamn beautiful. Excuse my French."

"When I first moved here, I would walk around all day and write down what I saw. I have six notebooks full from those first four months," Eileen said.

Phillips' eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise.

"That's... impressive."

"Thank you, sir."

"You've got the eye of a real agent, Eileen. I noticed that during the suspect classification workshop."

"Well," Eileen blushed, "sometimes I... I just think people are too complicated not to study."

In the distance, a faint blue light shone from all of the park house's windows. Eileen bent forward to get a closer look, but came to the conclusion her eyes were just playing tricks on her.

Phillips blew out some smoke and tapped off some ash from the burning cigarette.

"I guess I should stop beating around the bush," Eileen nodded then braced herself. Phillips noticed her tense up and close her eyes. The actor frowned in puzzlement. "Uh... you okay?"

"You've come to erase my memory or kill me. Or both."

Eileen sat up straight. She knew this was coming. The government doesn't just tell you top secret information and let you off scot-free. Now Eileen knew she had to face the music like an adult.

Phillips stared at Eileen. When Eileen realized she was still breathing, and her memory was still intact, she opened up her eyes.

"I... think there's been a misunderstanding," Phillips stated.

Eileen said, turning a deep pink, "Yes, it would seem as so."

Phillips gave Eileen an amused grin.

This mole girl, this waitress... Phillips knew she was delicate. Hopefully he was making the right choice.

"I'm sure you're aware of the Throat Ripper... Guy murders," Phillips said. When Eileen nodded, he continued, "And I'm sure we've-and by we I mean the agency-briefed you on the Silo killings."

"I went to the city library and looked him up in the public records as well," Eileen said.

"Atta girl. So you know the M.O in both cases are identical."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. _Very_ good. Now that I know that you're up to speed, I have a favor to ask," Phillips' demeanor changed, making Eileen realize he wasn't going to ask for something miniscule. "I need your eyes."

"Oh my God you **are** going to kill me!" Eileen wailed as she covered her eyes with her paws.

"No! _Jesus_," Phillips wiped a hand over his face and then put both hands up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have phrased it like that. I need you, you Eileen... I need you working for the agency as a rookie spy."

That statement caused a worse reaction from Eileen. She would have rather been blind than have that kind of responsibility.

She stammered, "M-me? A spy? A se... a secret agent? Why me? Why not Rigby?"

"Huh? Oh, the raccoon fellow. He's... scheduled for brain erasing. Yeah. We just need to fill out the paper work, get the permit approved-"

"The woman from New Jersey who was a sharp shooter?"

"Not quick enough."

"The ex-veteran who could smash four walnuts with one hand?"

"Failed the questionnaire."

Eileen searched her brain for the one person in the MWAT class she knew they'd want more than her. "Gil Covey?"

Phillips answered, slow and punctuated, "Bad attitude."

Gil did come off as a bit of a dickface. Damn, Eileen was _screwed_.

"Okay, I'm sure that I'm a million times worse than them."

"Why are you fighting me on this?" Phillips finally asked.

Feeling herself get upset, Eileen took in some quick, strained breaths to come herself down.

Eileen said, voice choking up a little, "You're pressuring me and you're just... You're just setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Disappointment? You think I'll be disappointed?" Phillips questioned. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because of... everything!" she finally shouted at the actor, hopping off the bench and standing in front of him. "Because I'm dweeby, annoying and immature. Because I can't stand up for myself. Because when people look at me they don't think, 'Hey it's Eileen!' or "Nice to see Eileen today!'." Eileen bent her head down to wipe an angry tear from her face. Phillips would not see her tears. He would** not** have another reason to pity her. "Because when people look at me... they look right through me. Because I'm just plain old _Eileen_."

Phillips didn't respond right away. Eileen didn't want him to; usually Margaret would coo and tell her none of it was true and that of course she was pretty and talented. But Phillips just shook his head.

"And do you believe all of what you just told me?"

"Yes," Eileen said, indignant.

Phillips nodded, then looked directly into Eileen's eyes.

"Then you should add 'stupid' to that list as well."

Eileen was stunned silent while Phillips stood up, hovering over her. "Now I'm not even going to address the bigger issue, which is that such an amazing person has such a warped sense of self. Nah, I'm gonna talk about the fact that the aforementioned individual has perfect 20/15 vision and the aim of someone with three times her experience. I'd rather mention that that individual has scored in the highest percentile for critical thinking. That very same individual is resourceful, intuitive, and concise."

Phillips' tone was sharp and criticizing but Eileen didn't feel insulted, as strange as that sounded. Instead she felt... encouraged.

"That individual fits the bill technically, as well as emotionally. In my twenty years, I've never met someone with such... heart. Such humanity and sweetness. Dark things are coming. Horrible, evil, **fucked up** things, Eileen. A lot of people are going to be hurt. We don't need sharpshooters or walnut crushers or some experienced asshole who can chuck a few daggers. We need a clear head and a quick thinker and a strong set of morals," Phillips put a hand on Eileen's shoulder. "We _need_ an Eileen."

Eileen said (more like whispered), "Nobody's ever needed me before... It feels sort of weird."

It was true. In Eileen's twenty years of life, no one has ever truly needed her. Sure, Margaret was her best friend and all. But if she were to disappear one day, Eileen was sure Margaret could move on pretty quickly.

But here was _Lou Diamond Phillips,_ telling her that masters of paranormal investigation and government funded strangeness wanted her of all people.

"You'll have to get used to that. Because we need you, Eileen."

Phillips reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila folder. He presented it to Eileen, who hesitated. "I don't even have a choice, do I?"

"Of course you do. There's always a choice. I'm just... strongly suggesting you choose our side."

Eileen, letting the last little bits of insecurity gnaw at her fingertips before dying in Phillips' speech, took the folder and held it to her chest. In the distance, but not really that distant, a luminous blue orb cut through the silver clouds and floated up and up until it finally dissipated. Immediately, a reverberating red light followed the blue one and disappeared with a "whoosh".

Phillips observed the light show and internally cringed.

They were running out of time.

"From this moment on, you're one of us. Which means we're treating you as one of us. Which means no coddling or hand holding. You'll call on me or the agency only as a last resort for help. Understand?"

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"I'll refer to you strictly by your last name. More professional. If your position is compromised, we'll deny any connection to you and you'll be on your own. No exceptions. Understand?"

Once again, Eileen answered, "I understand."

Phillips nodded, took the almost gone cigarette and threw it into the snow. His eyes turned deadly stern, as if he was seeing Eileen as a new agent and not that awkward girl twisting up her sweaty hands.

"Agent Webbe," Phillips said, and Eileen felt the oddest twinge at hearing her surname used instead of her first, "if you can't handle this, at anytime, you have to tell us. You got it?"

"I understand. I completely and fully understand."

Phillips straightened up his suit and left Eileen with no goodbye, or "see you later", or any acknowledgement of Eileen's existence.

Eileen looked down at the manila folder, then up at the park house. She couldn't tell any of them. Not without endangering them. What was the first thing they taught her at MWAT on the first day?... A motto that should get her out of most conflicts of conscience?...

_Money up front?_ No... no, Eileen was sure that was a motto for something else... Eileen shoved the folder into her bag and told herself to think about it later.

The motto could wait.

Her first assignment, however, could not.

*****jjjjj*****

"I knew this would cause trouble," Skips said, pointing to the broken window in the kitchen.

Pops, Mordecai and Benson stood side by side and stared at the window. Mordecai and Benson were still reeling from their experience with Baryshnikov, and the new information placed upon them. Pops just wanted to see the Russian spirit for himself.

"Oh~! Is it true, Mordecai and Benson?" Pops asked in his pajamas,"Did you see an apparition?"

Benson scolded the older gentleman, "This is serious Pops. Ghosts have just been... gliding through this broken window like some sort of revolving door."

"This would also explain those voices I heard in the basement when I was briefin' you, Benson," Skips explained.

Benson had to think for a moment, until he finally remembered Skips zoning out when talking about the thermostat.

Mordecai spoke up, "So what do we do about the window? Board it up or something?"

"No. That wouldn't do any good; they'll just break through it again," Skips answered.

"I think we should welcome the spirits!" Pops said while walking up to the window. He examined the jagged pieces of glass still stuck within the window frame. "They _obviously_ wish to assist us."

The woman's voice, the woman who sang to Mordecai that is, still rung in his ears clear as day. Was she a ghost too? Was she a victim? Why didn't Benson hear her too?

"I'm not doing anything until I know it won't bite me in the ass," Benson said. He turned to Skips, "Could you find out more about their intentions? Is there some way to know if they're malicious or not?"

Skips nodded, "I suppose I could perform a spell that would reveal their leanings. I'll have to get a few things from my house."

Skips left, but not before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the bag of jewelry and looking at it for a brief moment. It didn't look important, but if people would _give up their lives_ just to throw it at him, the jewelry deserved a little scanning over. He plopped the tiny bag on the table and went out the back door.

"Great," Benson turned to Pops and asked, "Pops, could you get all of the photographs and documents that have a weird man with glasses and a lab coat?" Benson asked.

The lollipop man lit up.

"Yes I could! Oh, perhaps the spirit will spin the couch around and give me scavenger hunt clues! Good show!"

Pops trotted out of the kitchen to do what he was told, so that Mordecai and Benson (of course, because the universe hated for them to be comfortable) were together.

Benson looked over at Mordecai, who was standing farther away patiently.

The past two nights were still fresh in Benson's mind. The "incident", going to find Pops, the car chase. It was all ridiculous. And dangerous. But mostly ridiculous.

"We should..." Benson said, looking down at the floor, "We should maybe start thinking of..."

Benson trailed off when he noticed Mordecai started staring at the window.

Not just staring though. It was if Mordecai was straining his eyes to really see something. Something that maybe Skips missed and overlooked.

Against his better judgement, Benson asked, "What are you looking for?"

"The glass is blue," Mordecai stated.

Benson looked at the shards lying on the floor, and they were indeed an opaque sort of cobalt blue.

"Yes. I agree."

"No, I mean... Blue doesn't really strike me as an evil color, y'know?"

Mordecai poked a foot out and pushed the shards around. Their color remained and Mordecai pulled his foot back, somewhat disappointed.

"What would you consider an 'evil' color than?" Benson mockingly asked.

Mordecai answered, voice dripping with hatred, "Purple."

Benson immediately understood and sympathized with his employee.

"I was just..." Mordecai began, cautiously, "this whole situation right now makes me think about... That night and how the room was. The room was blue too, I think."

"I think it was," said Benson quietly. He didn't really remember anything from that night other than the obvious part.

Mordecai had unconsciously moved closer to Benson. He was too busy trying to see if he really didn't remember anything else. He remembered Mordecai's weight on top of him. He remember how Mordecai smelled. He remembered the way Mordecai... He didn't remember anything that could help, no...

"Do you think whoever "we" is helped me out with my eyesight?"

"Sure," said Benson absentmindedly.

Mordecai saw the empty expression on Benson's face. He was thinking about it. Benson was reconsidering how he felt about it, hopefully.

"I think I think about it more than you do," Mordecai lamented.

Benson's face became red hot with the Mordecai words but was too stunned to speak.

Skips came back through the kitchen back door with a bulging brown burlap sack thrown over his shoulder. He took one look at the other two and coughed loudly. When Benson noticed Skips had returned, he jumped away from Mordecai and pointed to the broken glass.

"It turned blue," Benson announced.

Skips raised one eyebrow. "Thanks for the update."

Walking into the kitchen's dead center, Skips let the brown sack fall off of his person. He dug deep into the sack and pulled something out.

A pinch of chilli powder.

Skips sprinkled the chilli powder over the broken glass already on the floor. The moment the powder made contact, three plump red chillies with little blue cracks laid on top of the broken glass pieces. Skips turned his attention back two the other men, who were staring at the new chillies in amazement.

"Cool," Mordecai gasped. "Dude, how did you-"

"I'll tell you in a minute," Skips answered. He then took a piece of glass from the ground and motioned towards Benson. "Ben, I need to test something."

Benson stared at Skips questioningly, but ultimately obeyed.

The yeti then gently pulled Benson's arm (the one with the injured wrist) straight out, and with the hand holding the glass Skips sliced through Benson's bandage around his wrist and into his metal skin. Benson pulled his arm back and screamed bloody murder.

"Skips what the hell?"

"It's alright!" Skips put his hands up defensively.

Benson screeched, "No it's not 'alright'! You cut me!"

"But look at your arm!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Ben," Mordecai said. His eyes lit up with terror. "you might wanna look at your arm."

When looked down at his arm, he noticed that it started to shake. From the wound, little cracks of blue light formed and crawled down to not only where Skips had cut him, but his wrist as well. The cracks felt warm, but refreshing... as if Benson had dunked his arm in alka seltzer. The cracks of blue light that traveled down to his wrist glowed brighter. The sensation was so foreign and odd.

Soon the blue light phased out and all that was left was Benson's totally normal looking, uninjured arm.

Skips had seen enough.

"So we know two things," Skips said, finally dropping the glass.

"You couldn't have warned me before you went Jeffrey Dahmer on my arm?" shrieked Benson.

Benson studied his arm as if it was going to mutate or fall off at any given time.

Skips directed his attention to Mordecai, who was listening intently, "We know the ghosts or spirits are benevolent. The fact that they exude pure Angelite energy proves that."

"Angelite? Is that some sort of," Mordecai's face scrunched up, "Religious thing?"

Skips made a noise, highlighting his frustration with both Mordecai and Benson, and decided to not waste any time confusing them further.

"You and Benson got to find a way to find the man Baryshnikov was talking about," Skips said. Benson nodded in agreement and wordlessly left the kitchen. Mordecai instinctively wanted to follow him, but remained behind to see if Skips had any more to say. "Me and Pops will stay here and do some research."

"Research on what?"

Skips at first said nothing. Mordecai noticed that the yeti's eyes stayed stuck on him, but for the smallest fraction of a second Skips' pupils shifted. Mordecai felt an uneasy feeling overcome his body. But he said nothing to Skips to make his uneasiness known.

"You guys just find out where the guy is. Everything else can be figured out later."

Meanwhile, Benson went upstairs and into the computer room. He booted up the computer, made himself comfortable in the chair and cracked his knuckles.

He first typed in, "Jerry McGuire".

The search engine corrected him, spelling it "Jerry Maguire", and proceeded to throw up picture after picture of Tom Cruise posing like a smug asshole.

After narrowing his eyes at the computer's monitor, Benson typed in Jerry's name and the name of the city.

This time he was treated to pictures of Tom Cruise accepting the key to the city from the mayor. He looked less like a smug asshole, though.

"Goddammit," Benson growled.

He stood up from the chair grabbed unto his dome. This... this wasn't helping. In all honesty, he thought to himself, he should have calmed himself down first. He should have absorbed the information Skips had given to him and Mordecai both and just gone from there. But he just wanted to find that bespectacled asshole and get the situation over with. His personal life was being affected, Lou Diamond Phillips was showing up everywhere uninvited and people were being_ killed_.

Benson sat back into the chair and tried again.

He gave up on McGuire and instead typed in "Thomas Townsend". Suddenly Lorelai popped up everywhere. Pictures of her at charity events, school career days and other public gatherings. There was also a video of Lorelai handing a baby ferret to a rabbi, for some reason.

"She was something else," Benson mumbled as he scrolled down the page results.

Benson scanned over the page. She could have shielded herself from the stress of the workforce; Lorelei could have been one of those young women who lived off their families' money and esteem. But she chose to work as an EMT instead. Clearly she didn't cut all ties to the upper class... Though after a certain point, the pictures of her as a socialite decreased in frequency and are replaced by snapshots of her, doing her job.

Maybe a spoiled life would have saved her.

Benson kept scrolling and squinted his eyes when he came across a written interview with Thomas Townsend prior to his daughter's murder. He didn't read the interview, but instead scrolled down past the text at lightning speed until he saw the last few lines.

"Townsend currently lives in uptown... with his lovely wife Kimberly and their two daughters and son..."

Benson took a pen from the desk drawer and a piece of notepad paper and wrote down the address.

It was time to make this so called investigation mobile.

"Mordecai, get your shit we're going out!"

Benson practically jumped down the stairs with his winter clothes on. Mordecai stood up from the sofa, as he was previously looking over the photographs and documents with Pops.

"Benson, are you and Mordecai going out for dinner?" Pops asked, throwing a small (discreet) smile towards Mordecai.

Mordecai glared at Pops, then waited for Benson to reply. Benson simply raised an irritated eyebrow and kept talking, "I found Townsend's address."

"Lorelai's dad?" Mordecai said questioningly. He pondered this, until Benson's intent struck him. "He could know where the scientist dude is."

Mordecai went over to the rack near the front door and shrugged on his blue jacket.

It was then that Pops, for some reason, saw an opportunity to... push the two men in his preferred direction. They insisted nothing happened at the concert (which Pops thought was total boulder dash) but he giggled at the thought of them trying to deny any new feelings that could come about his new idea.

"Benson, you should take your camera!"

Benson frowned. "Now isn't the time for picture taking, Pops."

Pops smiled tenderly and end explained, "But Skips told me that cameras can sometimes pick up different types of energies. That can be useful."

"That actually sounds like a kick-ass idea," said Mordecai, looking at Benson. Benson looked back at Mordecai. He wasn't angry, or judgmental, but he certainly gave Mordecai chills with his gaze (Mordecai was sure Benson giving him chills wasn't part of the whole "Forget About Our Drunken Tryst and the Related Feelings" deal, along with telling Benson he thinks about it all the time.)

Benson dug into his pocket and handed his keys to Mordecai before heading back upstairs. He went into his room, in the back of the closet, and found his camera innocently sitting on top of a clothes pile.

He paused to study his camera for a moment. If Benson paid close enough attention to the eye piece, tiny scratches were to be seen.

SLAM!

Benson jumped backward only to see his room door had viciously closed all by itself. He held his camera by his side and went to the door to open it. It wouldn't budge. He put the camera down on his bed to get a good grip on the doorknob. It still wouldn't open. Benson turned it every which way; didn't work. Benson grabbed a hold on the doorknob and pulled and pushed. No deal.

"Oh come on," Benson grumbled. He was more perplexed than angry. He decided to try something drastic, as time was not on his side, and backed himself all the way to the side of the room opposite the door. Benson sighed, braced his body, and ran full speed at the door.

The door miraculously opened wide before Benson had the time to stop, so the gumball machine went flying into the middle of the hallway.

"What the _hell_?" Benson said to himself.

He got up, (rubbed his sides), retrieved his camera and went back down the stairs again, internally wondering if either he or the house was malfunctioning.

"I got it, let's go!" Benson ordered, snatching Mordecai's wing and heading out of the front door.

"Pops, I've got my walkie talkie just tell Skips to keep his on," said Mordecai.

The duo left the house, off to find the red headed woman's father, while Pops now focused on finding the skeleton key he used only in _dire_ situations.

The situation seemed dire enough.


	20. Chapter 20

Margaret hated to be such a gossip. Really. But she couldn't help it. Sometimes she would get a whiff of something and just be forced to investigate. It was like a disease, really.

After trying to contact Mordecai for the billionth time, Margaret gave up and went back to her station at the Coffee Shop. It was a slow day like most days and the red robin could not get the speculation out of her head. Mordecai sleeping with someone he ought not have. Which was very unexpected; Mordecai wasn't one for foolish one night stands.

Margaret liked that about him.

As she began to smile at the memory of an awkward blushing blue jay during their first sexual encounter, the Coffee Shop front door swung open to reveal Rigby standing at the entrance with loads of questionable items in his paws.

"Rigby! How's it going?" Margaret chirped.

"No time for small talk Mags," Rigby replied, "I got a party to plan."

Rigby ran down the stairs and towards the nearest table. He laid down the items he was holding onto the table and looked down at them with a mischievous grin.

"A party? What for?" Margaret asked.

Rigby shrugged, "Me and Mordecai just felt like having a party. It's gonna be awesome!"

Laid on the table were a multitude of pens, all different colors, a plastic green ruler, a walkie talkie, a few napkins and... a CD case. Margaret felt her face scrunch up at the random collection. Rigby stood back, then unfolded and spread out what seemed to be a map onto the table. Little red alarms went off inside of Margaret's head. How could they not? Mordecai? A party he never told her about? Margaret was all over that.

Margaret looked over the crudely drawn map with the utmost subtlety and realized it was oddly familiar. Rigby looked up to see her studying the map.

"Everyone we know and everyone they know will be there! Mordecai didn't tell you?"

"Mordecai hasn't been answering my calls."

Rigby laughed a bit, "That's weird."

She nodded and sighed ever so blithely. "So," Margaret lightly put her hand on the paper, "when and where will this shin-dig take place?" asked Margaret as she pulled up a stool for herself.

"The park house, from seven to whenever you pass out," Rigby answered.

Margaret couldn't help but smile at Rigby's enthusiasm. Rigby never really struck Margaret as the party planner type, but when he wanted to do something, the little guy obviously did it one hundred percent.

She respected that about him.

Margaret asked him, "How long have you and Mordecai been planning this?"

"Ever since he got that bullshit yet reasonable list of rules from Benson. Except I've been doing most of the planning! I got the food, I got the drinks, I got the girls, I even got this awesome retro band-"

"Why hasn't Mordecai been helping you?"

Rigby didn't know the answer to that. He had tried to call Mordecai, but apparently they still hadn't fixed the phones that Benson ripped out. He tried to reach Mordecai through his walkie talkie, but he never answered.

"I guess he's just... distracted?" Rigby hated how his answer sounded like he was doubting himself.

Regardless of what people thought, Margaret wasn't all about gossip this and gossip that. She truly wanted to know what was going on with Mordecai. Now she retained the theory that she slept with someone in their intermediate circle of friends. And since her and Eileen were the only girls, it had to be one of the park guys.

Although Rigby was crossed off the list, because apparently Mordecai wasn't even talking to him. Which caused Margaret to feel an inexplicable surge of anger towards Mordecai for Rigby. As goofy and annoying the raccoon could get, Margaret felt as if Mordecai was being selfish. He didn't deserve to be ignored.

"Have you," Margaret made circular hand motions, "noticed Mordecai acting strangely?"

Rigby didn't look up from writing down a list of things that simply did not make sense. Margaret's eyes widened at the sight of 'Clown Strippers and Eagle Meat' being written. It was gonna be some party.

Rigby flatly asked, "How do you mean?"

"I mean, like, has he been acting in a way that isn't... Mordecai-like?"

"Well," and Rigby really had to think about that one, but when he did there was one moment that stuck out clear as day. "come to think of it... back when the MWAT classes ended and junk, and Mordecai heard that loser LDP talk about flowers, he just started muttering some crap about plants. Then he ran back to the park house like he was running from the cops."

"Plants?" Margaret said with a confused scowl.

"I don't understand it either," Rigby admitted, "he was probably talking about his glorious stash of weed. You know he buys real quality stu-"

"Rigby, do you know if Mordecai is seeing someone?" Margaret asked.

Rigby squinted his eyes at her, not sure where she was trying to get at, and suddenly his eyebrow began to slowly raise. He sat closer to Margaret with a highly suspicious gaze which caused her to look back at him utterly flustered and a bit uncomfortable.

"Why do you want to know that?" he finally asked. Margaret could tell he was trying to keep his voice neutral.

Margaret breathed out a laugh and responded, "That doesn't answer my question."

"I'll answer your question when you answer mine. Why this sudden interest in Mordecai's dating life?" Rigby smiled a smile so shit-eating Margaret sort of wanted to punch him in the stomach. "I mean, I thought the whole point of breaking up with a guy was so you could go back to ignoring him."

"Mordecai broke up with me," Margaret said, and Rigby looked on in surprise.

She instinctively slapped a hand over her mouth and darted her eyes all around the shop. No one but them could have heard her confession, but she still felt as if the information was just broadcast to the whole town.

"He broke up with you?" Rigby hissed disbelievingly. "Mordecai ended the relationship with you?"

"Yes, Rigby."

"... Willingly?" Margaret rolled her eyes, but Rigby continued, "I mean, was he drunk and high at the same time? Was he held at gunpoint? Jesus, did you, like, sleep with his dad or something?"

"That's between me and him, thank you very much," said Margaret with her eyes fixed on Rigby.

Her tone and stiff body language told Rigby to drop it, and so he went back to focusing on his original concern.

Rigby said, "I don't think he's dating any one right now. He's too busy being Benson's Errand Boy."

"Thanks," Margaret rubbed her forehead, "that's all I wanted to know."

She got up from her stool, when Rigby grabbed unto her arm to stop her. When Margaret stared at Rigby questioningly he instantly let go of her arm and looked down at his feet.

"Uh... Why did you want to know that?"

After a moment of deciding Rigby was genuinely curious, Margaret answered, "I guess I want to see what smart girl he romances next."

Rigby, in an attempt to make her feel better, asked with a soft grin, "How do you know his next girlfriend will be smart?"

Margaret smiled to herself and sighed, "Because she'll be dating him." She looked away from Rigby and noticed a new customer had come in. "Dating Mordecai was the smartest thing I've ever done."

Suddenly an indescribable emotion flashed across Margaret's face. Rigby frowned.

"What was the dumbest thing you ever did?"

She reacted as if she didn't hear Rigby.

"I gotta go back to work."

Margaret left the table and positioned herself back at her station. Rigby stood upright on the table, dumbfounded. At that moment, Rigby understood what Mordecai meant whenever he said Margaret looked tired.

**jjjj**

"Why did I bring my camera again?" Benson complained with the said camera in his hands. "This thing is on it's last leg."

Mordecai, remembering the whole nightmare they went through a day prior, checked behind the cart in an almost paranoid manner. Those golf carts were tough, but not tough enough to survive a Hollywood style car chase.

"Pops had the right idea," Mordecai said.

Benson made sure the device had film. His eyes glanced over to Mordecai, but immediately went back to the camera.

"I shouldn't have taken it. It's a classic; one wrong move and it's done for," Benson said, as if he hadn't heard Mordecai.

Honestly, Benson hadn't. It's not like he was ignoring the guy on purpose.

"Ghosts don't really make appearances the normal way, right? Unless you catch them by accident. Like in movies, they're always the creak in the door or in the corner of your eye..." Mordecai made a right, and coming up ahead was a giant white gate. Apparently the Townsends lived in a gated community. "Or the blotch in the background of a photograph."

Benson paused, then looked at Mordecai.

In that moment, Benson remembered the day he had found Pops in the snow crying. The day he was photographing the trees. And some pictures he had taken with that camera had that damn blur... Why did he not remember that until then?

Mordecai reached out a hand to be buzzed in, but Benson stopped him by asking, "Hold on, what's our story?"

"What?"

"We just can't stroll in. There's a killer on the loose. We need a cover story to get past the people controlling the gate."

Mordecai considered this silently. Then, snapping his fingers, he pressed the button and waited for a response.

Some static screeched from the intercom on the booth.

"Identification," a bored woman's voice called out.

"No identification," Mordecai began, "uh, we're... Looking to purchase? We were invited to an open house last week?"

Then came the world's longest two minutes, until finally the woman's voice came back and she sounded much more cheerful.

"Oh! My apologies! Come right in! And congratulations!"

Benson and Mordecai shared a incredulous look. Benson hesitantly replied, "Thank you?"

With a loud and deep beep the gates slowly swung open. They drove right past, and Benson couldn't help but laugh slightly.

"It worked. That wasn't as dramatic as I thought it would be."

"Downright irresponsible if you ask me," Mordecai said, making a right. "There is a killer on the loose."

Benson had to agree with Mordecai there.

He told him, keeping his eyes peeled, "Look for 1818 Juniper Street."

Mordecai went on driving. Although it felt like he was driving in circles. The gated community that Townsend took residence in reminded him of every stereotypical idea people have of suburbia.

Before he knew it, Mordecai was singing quietly.

_"Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky. Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same..."_

Benson didn't keep his eyes off the street signs, but he did snatch glances of Mordecai. The singing wasn't annoying so much as it was... confusingly endearing.

"Make another right here," Benson said, eyebrows furrowed at his driving partner.

"Alright," Mordecai complied, then went back to singing under his breath._ "And the people in the houses all went to the universities, where they were put in boxes and they come out all the same..."_

"Where is that from?" Benson abruptly asked.

Mordecai jumped a little. It was like he had forgotten Benson was sitting next to him that whole time.

He shrugged, "It's an old song. 1960's. I just like how folksy it is."

The easygoing nature of his employee at a tense and potentially life threatening time made Benson want to shake the shit out of him and understand how he did it. How could Mordecai be this calm?

The worst part was that Benson sort of-

"Here we are!" Mordecai exclaimed. He parked the cart and hopped out. Benson blinked up at the house and huffed in frustration.

On the front lawn, a big blue sign read, "Open House!" in even bigger white letters. Benson got out and followed Mordecai, but only to scold him.

"The open house was our cover!" he said to Mordecai as if he had forgotten. "We don't actually have to _go_!"

Mordecai smiled knowingly, "Of course we're not going. But if anyone sees our cart parked in front of Townsend's house they'll catch wise."

"And the hosts of the open house? Don't you think they'll wonder why some random people parked in front and left?"

"There are, like, fifty couples in there! They'll just assume it's one of them!" Mordecai stopped walking and faced Benson head on. "You think that's why that woman told us congrats?"

Benson's face twisted in annoyance and confusion. "What woman?"

"The woman at the gate! You don't remember? She told us 'congratulations!'... She probably thought we were newlyweds or something..."

Mordecai trailed off when Benson began to walk away.

They were on Hyland, Benson noticed. Juniper couldn't be that far.

**jjjj**

Skips jangled the jewelry in his hand once more, hoping the it would cause some sort of magical reaction or apparition type disturbance or something. But alas; it was just plain old gold jewelry.

_Then why did those goons in the shiny black car seem so eager to force it on him?_

Skips set the jewelry back in the plastic baggie it came in and shoved it in his drawer. He pulled up the covers from his own bed and searched underneath it for something. Pops watched intently... for about a second or two. After that he became entranced by the inner workings of Skips' house.

It was so simple and cozy! Pops felt as if he were... what did they usually say in those settings?... Oh! 'Slumming'! Yes, that was it! Pops was slumming! He felt like a regular lumberjack!

"Skips? May I ask what you're looking for?" Pops inquired while staring at a picture on the wall. It was of him and Skips during his school boy days. Times were simpler then.

Skips grunted, as he struggled to pull something up from under his mattress.

"A book that will help us with the ghosts," Skips answered.

A quick tug forward caused Skips to pull out a tiny golden chest with funny markings on it. Skips glared at the unassuming box then threw it aside.

Pops immediately when to the golden chest and picked it up, only to discover that it was indeed very heavy. He dropped it on the bed again and studied it hungrily.

While making circles on top of the chest, Pops asked again, "It would be safe to assume this is not the desired book, yes?"

Skips popped up from the bed. "It's where I put the seeds for the greenhouse plants."

Pops nodded. Slowly, ever so slowly, the realization hit him and he clapped his hands at his deduction.

"You're responsible for the Unpleasant Plants!"

Skips pursed his lips.

"I'm responsible for planting some magic seeds that turned bad."

"I'd say 'bad' is an understatement!"

"We all make mistakes."

"True, but why not tell Benson? Or better yet, why not get rid of the horrid things when they began to be such a nuisance?"

Skips sighed and went back to looking underneath his bed. The real answer would be concern for his boss. Revealing to Benson that he knew why the plants were acting, for lack of a better word, dickish, would have made him question everything Skips would do from that moment on. He'd lose the one employee he knew he could count on. Benson needed someone perfect in his life. Even when if his idea of perfect was nonexistent. And besides.

It wasn't entirely Skips' fault anyway.

Finding the book was imperative. Perhaps it would answer some questions about the ghosts.

Skips felt around for a huge rectangular shape on the far right, but felt nothing. It seemed as if underneath his bed was a never ending pool of darkness that his belongings just got sucked into... Oh, right...

When Skips came up again, he had his usual blank face on.

"I may have thrown it out... into another dimension..."

Skips got up from his bed and walked out of the room, leaving Pops with himself and the tiny golden chest.

Frowning, Pops said, "That indeed makes things more difficult..."

**jjjj**

Rigby shook the last bit of snow from his fur and grimaced at the cold. He didn't even remember falling to the ground. There was a troubling gap between saying goodbye to Margaret and ending up on his back, staring at the clouds with a slight stinging behind his eyes.

Don was at his desk, typing something up, and when he looked down and saw his brother the younger raccoon immediately stood up to greet him.

"Rigbone! Where'd you go? I woke up and you were M.I.A."

Rigby avoided Don's open arms and headed into the kitchen. Don followed him, as was expected.

Rigby answered, "Still planning the party. Went to the Coffee House and talked to Margaret for a bit."

Rigby opened up the fridge and took out a can of cherry soda. He used his canines to savagely punch holes at the top of the aluminum instead of using the tab. Some red liquid spilled onto the floor but Rigby went off towards the stairs, uncaring.

"The Coffee Shop?" Don asked, sounding hopeful. "Was... was Eileen there, by chance?"

"No. She had the day off," Rigby then said to himself, "Thank God."

Don trailed behind his brother, smiling to himself. The very mention of Eileen's name made him feel tingly. "Oh. Rigby?"

Rigby stopped on the middle of the staircase, let his head loll back and which caused him to do the "shark face", and turned to look up at Don.

"What do you want, Don?"

"You wouldn't... If a fella were to..." The words stuck to the roof of Don's mouth and he felt his hands get clammy. Talking to Rigby about girls was always difficult. His older brother always seemed so much more confident; Don felt so inexperienced in comparison. "Would it be weird if someone, not me of course, but if someone that's totally not me had a bit of a... infatuation with Eileen?"

Rigby's eyes went wide, then the smaller raccoon doubled over in laughter, one arm holding his gut while the other threatened to let the cherry soda slip from his hand. Don didn't see what was so funny, but hoped that Rigby's laughter was a good sign.

Rigby wiped a tear, he had been laughing that hard, and pointed to Don.

"Dude, dude, I don't even... You're _killin'_ me, dude!"

"I noticed a connection between you two and... If someone, I mentioned it wasn't me, right? Well, if someone were to try and... just talk to her and enjoy her company in a romantic sort of way... Would that bother you? Because if it did that person would back off. Family always comes first." Rigby tilted his head, shaking with giggles. Don gasps, "Which is what I would say if I were that someone I was referring to! But I'm not because I barely see Eileen and after all she's probably icky with that friendly grin of hers and sunny demeanor."

Rigby burst out in laughter again, and Don just stood in front of his brother awkwardly until he just gave up. He turned his back on Rigby and hung his head while descending the staircase, but helpless wheezing noises made Don freeze.

"Stop! Stop!" Rigby put a hand to his chest and sat down on a step. He took a deep breath and gestured for Don to get closer. "You... I mean, 'someone'... they... they want to go for Eileen?"

Don waited for the last of Rigby's chuckles to die down before he answered. "I wouldn't phrase it like that... but yes. They really, _really_ do."

The cherry soda was set down and Rigby studied his brother. The amusement was still there, but it became mixed with another emotion Don rarely saw coming from Rigby.

If Don had to guess, he would have said it was something between fascination and wistfulness.

"Go for it," Rigby picked up his soda and turned on his heel, though he spun back around and smirked at Don. "I mean, that person can go for it. That person who isn't you."

Rigby went all the way up the stairs and down the hallway to his room. When Don heard a door shut he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He thought about Eileen's name and Eileen's face and gosh Don had to talk to Eileen again! He just had to!

He looked down at himself and frowned.

But before anything, he had to burn that lime green sweater and anything even remotely resembling it in his wardrobe.

**jjjj**

Mordecai and Benson stood on the doorstep of Thomas Townsend's tasteful yet intimidating home.

It had hit Benson all too late that he and Mordecai didn't actually discuss much besides asking Townsend where the other man, assumed to be a doctor, lived... How would they get information from him? What if Townsend didn't trust them and refused to say anything? What if he called the cops? What if that dead Russian bastard was just sending them on a wild goose chase?

Benson almost warned Mordecai, stopped him so they could talk it over and form a plan, but. The blue jay had that same calmness he had exhibited in the cart when they were driving. Mordecai, compared to the other park employees and excluding Skips, actually had a good head on his shoulders. And maybe Benson judged him too harshly, too soon.

Before that realization had time to sink in, Mordecai was looking at him expectantly, and it took Benson longer than necessary to figure out that he was asking for permission. Benson slowly nodded and Mordecai pressed the doorbell.

The same beep they heard from the gate sounded from the doorbell. When the door opened, a stout Latina woman who looked in her mid thirties eyed Benson and Mordecai suspiciously.

"No press," she said to them, eyes narrowed.

Benson shot a look Mordecai's way and Mordecai cleared his throat.

"We're... here to see Mr. Townsend? Is he in?"

The woman, dressed in a pink blouse and a modest pair of khaki pants, shakes her head.

"No."

Benson asked, "When will he be back, if you know?"

"He's here," the woman said.

"You just said... Whatever! Great!" Mordecai smiled at her, hoping that she'd warm up. No dice. "Can we see him?"

The woman said, more firmly, "No."

"Okay, miss, is he here of isn't he?" Benson spoke up. He had to remind himself that the woman was a stranger, not one of his employees.

"Yes, he is here," the woman said nodding. Then she crossed her arms. "No you can not see him."

"Why not?" Mordecai frowned.

"No press!"

The woman slammed the door in their faces. After picking up their jaws from the floor, Mordecai rang the doorbell again. And when the door wasn't answered, Mordecai just banged on the door until the noise became unbearable.

The door swung open and the woman before stood before them, with a broom and a panicked look on her face.

"Whoa! Miss, I'm sorry-" Mordecai started.

"You dogs!" she swiped the broom and barely missed Benson, but the gumball machine ducked at the last minute. "You pigs! This poor man is grieving and you hound him! Still! You dogs! You dogs!"

She stabbed the broom's handle out and got Mordecai right in the gut. It knocked the wind out of him and made Mordecai fall to the floor, gasping for air.

"Hey! Be careful with that!" Benson shouted at the woman.

The woman snarled-snarled!-at Benson and spun the broom in a circular motion, like a fan, while advancing on Benson. Benson almost ran, but sized her up and decided he could take her. The broom came down and Benson's fist went up, causing him to split the broom in half.

The woman took the two pieces and held them out like swords.

Benson cracked his knuckles and stood his ground.

"What in the... Jesenia!" a voice called out.

The woman, who was called Jesenia evidently, Benson, and Mordecai surveyed the front doors and saw a middle aged man with brown hair and tired eyes standing there, looking at them all in contempt.

"Sorry, Mr. Townsend," Jesenia said, meekly, but pointed angry sticks in Mordecai and Benson's directions, "but these men... they still want a story!"

Townsend's eyes drifted to Mordecai, who still laid on the ground in the fetal position, then to Benson, who held his fists up defensively.

"Drop the broom, Jesenia," Townsend said, looking only at Benson.

Benson eased up, put still had his hands in fists.

"We should call the police!" Jesenia shook the sticks in her hands and Benson went back on the defensive.

Townsend's whole expression hardened and he commanded her again, "Drop it. Now."

After glaring at Benson, Jesenia threw her wooden weapons to the ground and pointed a finger towards him forebodingly.

"I have two sons on the force, you remember that, gumball machine."

She meekly apologized to Townsend again and disappeared into the house. Townsend sighed and waved Benson over.

"Grab your friend and follow me. My other maid prepared sandwiches."

**jjjj**

Skips clapped the stones together again, but when he pulled them apart there was still no gaping hole into the next dimension. Geez, were those things broken? Either that or Skips was getting rusty, and Skips never got rusty.

"Perhaps if you rubbed them together?" Pops offered.

Skips shook his head. "I've done this the same way millions of times before. **Literally**. I don't know why the Dimensional Stones are giving me grief all of a sudden."

Pops looked over to the collage of pictures still sticking to the wall. The doctor, the man Mordecai and Benson were off looking for, seemed quite lanky and unassuming. Perhaps Pops was too trusting, but the older gent couldn't see such a man being the violent type.

Then again, Pops saw the worst come out of the most innocent looking people. Things really did change since he was a school child.

"If you can't retrieve the book, could you acquire the needed information another way?"

Skips shoved the stones back into his brown sack of supernatural goodies and looked up to the ceiling in thought.

"The book was a basic rundown of spiritual energies and how they effect the livin' world... I could Google it... But that would be unreliable information," Skips grunted, and Pops could see the gears turning in the yeti's weathered yet trustworthy skull. "I suppose... I could just conjure up the ghosts... But spirits don't know anythin' technical about their condition. It'd be like askin' a dog about veterinarian matters. Unless..."

"Unless?" Pops repeated.

Skips' eyes snapped to the kitchen door. "Unless I ask a First World Ghost."

Skips left Pops in the living room alone. The kitchen door swung hard against the wall from the force it was pushed and Pops stared at it for a few moments before pulling the skeleton key from his vest pocket and rushing up to Benson's room.

After digging through clothes and carefully setting aside a few cameras, Pops smiled giddily as he found the box full of Benson's college stuff.

"The concert should have planted the seed," Pops giggled, "and now I must start watering the sprout!"

**jjjj**

A deafening "ping!" went off in Rigby's ear before someone picked up.

"We don't play bachelorette parties! Not after what happened with the senator's sister," a man said, sleepily.

Rigby rolled his eyes, though no one could see him.

"This is Rigby, I called you a couple of weeks ago," he said.

"... Not ringing any bells."

"I'm the dude with the clown strippers?"

"Ding, ding, ding. We have winner. Now how can I help a man of such great tastes in exotic dancers?"

"I was just making sure we're still on for next week? I remember you saying you needed to get your drummer on board?"

Silence, then Rigby heard a shuffling of papers against bedsheets, along with another man yelling "What do you mean you he played my _bass_? He couldn't have; his fingers are too small and _dainty_!" in the distance.

He was already annoyed, this guy must've thought Rigby had nothing else to do but wait for him to answer, but no he had to listen to his background music. Ugh. This band better sound as good as they did in the eighties.

"Okay," the guy was back, "Mr. Rigby, raccoon dude throwing a party and needing live entertainment for the twenty fifth... Well, twelve years have passed, we're still live and we're still pretty entertaining."

Rigby literally heard the guy smirk over the phone. "Me and my friend will be the judge of that, thanks."

"Wait, where is this happening again? And we never discussed payment!"

Rigby narrowed his eyes and began to say "We hear you play, then we pay" but then a third guy was screaming for that guy to get off the phone and a not so pleasant exchange of words broke out.

"Unless that's you know who, get your ass over here and practice!" the third guy ordered.

Then the dude from before chimed in, "Can someone explain to me why a dude with a fuck ugly orange bandana is playing _Big Ben's drums_?!"

"Will you assholes shut up? I'm trying to book the... the Clown Stripper Guy!"

Not surprisingly, the other two men shushed up real fast, and the first voice Rigby heard spoke again, except more amicable. "Band mates. Like toddlers except twice the swearing and three times the vomit."

Rigby groaned, "Are we good or not?"

"We're as good as gold. No! Platinum! No, wait. What's better than platinum? We're as good as that!"

"That's all I wanted to know, geez," Rigby scratched 'band' from his list an went to hang up, but before he did, he asked the guy quickly, "I need your name. You know, for the bodyguard."

"Huh? Oh, uh, Hanna. Albert Hanna. Need the names of my other guys?"

"Nah, that'll get you in."

Rigby hung up, threw Don's cell phone to the side and flopped down on the king sized bed with a scowl.

**jjjj**

"Uh, what?"

Skips grunted, impatient with the other man on the phone. High Five Ghost was more than likely in some noisy bar; Skips could hear Muscle Man's pathetic high pitched squeals, along with some rim shots and guitar riffs mixed in for good measure.

"Your alignment? Do you know it? I already know you're First World, which means you've got some memory of your past before you died?... Right?"

"Right," Fives confirmed, though talk of his life... while he was still _alive_ always made him uncomfortable.

"Okay," Skips said, "So how does it all work?"

"I... I'm not sure. Why are you asking? Me? Now?"

Skips looked down at his feet where a lone picture of McGuire laid. The yeti put his foot over the man's smiling face.

"Listen, things are... getting odd around here." There was a significant pause between them and Skips realized things were always odd around here. "I need your help. Mordecai and Benson really need to know this stuff."

"Mordecai and Benson?" The mention of the two co-workers made Fives more alert, more willing to talk, but Fives also seemed more curious about why this information was so critical. "What's going on? Did they get involved with any more supernatural stuff?"

It was Skips' turn to give a significant pause.

"Just tell me what you can."

Fives sighed, heavy and hesitant which made Skips feel like a big bully, but time was of the essence and a little pushiness could be forgiven if it saved his friends and others from getting their throats sliced up like deli meat.

"My projected color is green," Fives began, sounding detached from the conversation already, "and I'm not evil... I think... so green is... good? Colors are weird. They can be misleading sometimes."

"How so?" Skips asked. This was new to him; energy colors, he thought, were always foolproof.

Skips imagined the other man on the phone shrugging. "Ghosts like messing with mediums. Some project negative, or, 'evil' colors to scare them off. And sometimes they project positive energies..."

Skips waited for Fives to finish the thought. When he would not, and after a loud "ping!" resonated through the phone's speaker, Skips urged the ghost once more to speak.

"And what does that mean? A ghost who projects positive energies to the living is really evil?"

"What's wrong with Mordecai and Benson?" Fives asked. It was almost as if he hadn't even been talking about energies at all, but instead waiting until he got the opportunity to ask about his friends.

Skips knew he was worried, and he understood (really) but he needed to know right know, "Fives. Focus. Please. Are you trying to say ghosts can project whatever energy they want? Or, what?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what?"

"Regular ghosts like me couldn't... It just wouldn't be worth the effort. But if a ghost really wanted to, I dunno, cause trouble... and if they were strong enough, they could play up the charade for days. Months even."

A jittery giggling followed by a slamming door sounded upstairs, but Skips was too busy dealing with the scary realization that he may have been wrong. As in, incorrect.

As in, Mordecai and Benson were out chasing a clue that a potentially evil ghost gave to them.

"... Keep me updated you know?" Fives finished, although Skips had zoned out. "And tell Rigby that we can squeeze the party in, it turns out."

Skips heard giggling again, then soft footsteps descending the stairs, and decided he had heard enough.

"Thanks, Fives. Thanks and take care."

**jjjj**

The other maid, Kacy, brought Mordecai a glass of pink lemonade and the blue jay smiled brightly at her.

Thomas Townsend sat back in a red leather chair watching both men with hard unfeeling eyes. Benson sheepishly nibbled on the (surprisingly decent) muffins set out on the table in front of him and studied his surroundings.

"Your house is awesome Mr. Townsend," Mordecai said, sounding genuinely impressed.

In a small study tucked underneath the main staircase, Benson and Mordecai were able to see the house's heart, and the different trails led to different wings. To their left was a brightly lit hallway that forked into three new hallways, all varying shades of red. The right of them had a glass wall that showcased numerous rooms, each one peeking interest (for instance, one room, on the second floor, held nothing but exercise balls)

Jesenia gave Benson the evil eye from the kitchen, and though Benson felt bad for almost fighting a woman like he was in a game of Mortal Kombat, Benson let a smugness collect inside.

He totally would have _whooped_ her. Not that he would feel good about it afterwards. Of course not.

"I thought you guys would've come sooner," Townsend finally said.

Mordecai had bitten into a muffin, forcing Benson to speak for them both, "You were expecting us?"

"Of course. When Jerry McGuire tells you he's sending over private investigators you know he's going to make good on his word," Thomas nodded to himself, as if to confirm his own statement. "I just didn't expect... _you two_."

Mordecai wiped crumbs off of his beak, "We get that a lot. But don't worry. We're professionals." Townsend nodded again. Mordecai continued speaking, "How have you been? Since-"

"You don't have to answer that," Benson interrupted. He stared at Mordecai darkly, and the blue jay glared at him.

"No, no, Detective. It's fine. I'm fine..." Townsend took a deep breath and opened his mouth. When no reply came out he sat back in his chair and rubbed at his eyelids. "I'm doing the best I can. With all of this."

Benson, inexplicably, looked upwards at the ceiling to see it was beautifully decorated with red rubies, all in a swirling spiral pattern coming together in the ceilings' center. The Townsends sure liked the color red. And showing off.

"I'm sorry. We're sorry," Benson said, and Mordecai could tell- he meant it. "Whatever we can do, we'll do it. But we have a question for you first."

Townsend straightened up ever so slightly.

"What is it? Shoot."

"Are you friends with any other of McGuire's clients?" Mordecai asked.

Townsend, for the first time they set foot in his house, smiled.

"Well," he began, "being a client of the famous Jerry McGuire gains you many friends, many perks, many burdens... But it's all in good fun. Now, if you're talking about the main six of us, that's something to whistle about."

Benson shared a look with Mordecai, then asked quizzically, "The six of you?"

Townsend pulled a drawer open from his desk and pulled out a huge auburn scrapbook. He pushed it towards the two of them and gestured for them to open it.

Of course, the first page was a picture that looked all too familiar. Six men standing in a row. One of them the doctor. A Dr. Gordon, apparently.

"We did the most business with Townsend, and so naturally we became something similar to... bowling buddies," Townsend explained. He grinned a very sunny, almost inspiring grin. "We were invincible."

Mordecai pointed at the mousy guy, the guy they were looking for. "Who's that guy?"

Townsend pulled the scrapbook back to see who Mordecai was talking about.

"Oh! Gordon! Good Ol' Gordon! A bit of a Shrinking Violet that one. He was more Silo's friend."

Benson expected Townsend to grimace at the memory of Silo, but he showed no discomfort whatsoever. "Not many people can say they were friends with a serial killer, Mr. Townsend."

Townsend took no offense. In fact, he chuckled. "I get what your saying. At least I've a story to tell the grand kids, eh?"

Benson's eyes studied the face of Thomas Townsend. His skin was gray and looked as if it was stretched onto Townsend's bone like a book cover that was too small for the book. His red hair had no sheen or shine, and in all honesty it looked more of a weak salmon color. But what really put Benson on edge was that smile that broke out when the topic of McGuire and his buddies was brought up. _That_ topic was what brought him from his grieving.

Something was not _fucking_ clicking.

"You keep in touch with anyone besides McGuire?" Mordecai asked.

Townsend snapped the scrapbook closed and set in back into his desk drawer.

Townsend said, smile slipping off his lips, "Maellard sends the occasional Christmas card... Silo and Baryshnikov are self-explanatory," Mordecai and Benson exchanged knowing looks, "And Gordon... Last I heard from Gordon was about a week ago."

"Does he still live in town?" Benson asked.

Townsend was going to answer 'yes', Benson could tell, but suddenly an intensity took him over. "Why are you asking about Gordon?"

Mordecai added, defensively, "No reason just... We want to cover all our tracks."

"Do you think Gordon has something to do with my Lorelai?"

"Not unless you have reason to think he does. You know him better than we do."

"Don't play mind games," Townsend warned, "If you know something tell me."

"We just want to cover all of our tracks. Talking to Gordon is another item on the to-do list and every moment spent not talking to him could be detrimental." Mordecai reassured. His voice commanded that Townsend calm down; that any threats wouldn't work on either of them so don't even try.

Benson had to admit Mordecai was better at the whole investigating thing than he was. Then again, Benson was more of a "shoot first, ask questions later" guy.

Townsend's eyes jumped between the two men before closing. He settled and sank in his chair.

He told them, obviously constraining his voice, "I believe Gordon still lives in the town, yes."

"Alright, okay. Would you mind telling us specifically where?"

Townsend abruptly stood up, causing Benson and Mordecai to sit back, startled.

"Tell you what," Townsend said, and his face was hard and unreadable. He was almost out of his own house when he finished saying, "I'll do you one better."

**jjjj**

Skips didn't say anything at first. That was for two reasons.

The first being that he was afraid any words would distract Pops and make him stop... whatever he was doing.

The second being that Skips didn't feel he had to.

Skips watched as Pops bundled himself up, with Skips' golden chest in his wrinkly small hands, and headed outside through the backdoor in the kitchen.

Following Pops, Skips saw that the older lollipop man was going into the greenhouse. Once inside, Pops placed the golden chest on a bench (right next to where the dead dandelions used to be) and opened it to take out some seeds with one hand.

Pops then took a slip of paper from the golden chest with his other hand. Skips could see, from the greenhouse doorway, that the wrinkles around Pops' eyes become even more stressed as he read silently.

Skips stepped into the greenhouse and let the door close behind him.

Finally, suspecting that then would be the optimal time, Skips spoke up and stated flatly: "It wouldn't be a good idea to plant anythin' in here Pops."

As if anticipating Skips intervening, Pops replied, "I know you may be wary due to the last batch of herbal inhabitants," Pops placed the paper down and Skips could see something in Latin scribbled on it. It was his own handwriting, of course. "But this time around I'm doing things a bit differently."

"And you're aware what I did wrong with the plants last time?" Skips asked. He was curious as to how Pops may have figured it out.

Pops nodded. "Evil is a behavior after all. Identical to good manners, I like to believe. If we want these plants to be benevolent we must teach them to behave as such."

Quietly, Pops added, "They'll be too sweet for even _Benson_ to resist!"

"Wait, what was that last part?"

"Get me that watering can, please?"

Pops pointed to said watering can, and Skips obeyed. Normally Skips would persuade Pops from such a plan mainly because Pops never quite understood the consequences of magic. You couldn't tell a warlock to stop cursing people because "it's mean!", but Pops was the kind of person to think so. But the older gentlemen seemed really very confident, and if worse came to worst Skips was sure he could take on talking plants.

And so Pops planted the seeds in different pots scattered around the greenhouse and watered them lovingly, until all the seeds were gone and the water itself was depleted. He came back to the center of the greenhouse and took the paper from before in his hands.

"We need to talk about things, Pops," Skips said, his gruffness helping in sounding nonchalant. "About what happened when McGuire's men took you. And why who've developed a sudden interest in these plants."

"All in due time, Skips!" said Pops. He cleared his throat and after a final look around, he read aloud from the paper. _"Plantae sunt bene, flores sunt melius; crescunt de luto emundant et facere amore paulo altius!"_

A faint scent of lilac and cinnamon blew from out of nowhere, and a gentle rumble shook the greenhouse. The pots levitated ever so slightly from their perching and glowed with warm spring colors; pinks and yellows and soft light greens that made Pops grin from ear to ear.

Skips only raised but one eyebrow at this. Pops had recited the Latin _perfectly_. And considering how happy he was, Skips thought it rude to bombard him with intrusive questions just yet.

But he had to ask about McGuire and Maellard eventually. Another question, although admittedly not as important but just as interesting, nagged at Skips.

Why on earth, out of _all_ the potions and rituals to guarantee a benevolent conjure of spirits and temperaments, did Pops use a love spell?


End file.
